


Seeing the Light

by beautifulterriblequeen



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos pulling strings, Accidental Flirting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Aro Opeli, Cute texting, Date Night, Disaster Gays, Domestic Janaya, Double Date, Dream Angst, Dream Sequence, Dream Whump, Dubious Consent, Emotional Support, Ethari can't help himself, Ethari gets toppy the second he walks in, Ethari is interested, Ethari still crafting things, Ethari's nearly impossible to embarrass and it's adorable, Everyone Is Gay, Family Feels, First Date, First Kiss, First Meetings, Food everywhere I guess, Gift Giving, Heavy Angst, Hints of serious injury, Hurt/Comfort, Janai is a badass, Janai is a good friend, Karma comes for Aaravos for once, Keeping secrets for the wrong reasons, Light Flirting, Lots of Touching, M/M, Martial arts instructor Janai, More Flashbacks, More Misunderstandings, Opeli is a Karen, Opeli misunderstands hilariously, Opeli ships it, Problematic Ex, Runaan gets a Master Plan, Runaan has two speeds okay, Runaan is a car guy, Runaan is hot, Runaan is too gay to say anything straight out, Runaan is touch starved, Runaan needs glasses, Runaan oversteps and gets what he deserves, Runaan starts to trust Ethari for real, Runaan's ex boss, Runaan's not into dubious consent, Runaan's past upsets everyone including Runaan, Runaan's starting to have a breakthrough, Runaan's therapy chapter, Sleep Deprivation, Team Bonding, Touching, Trust Issues, Ungood use of resources, Whump, accidental flirting continues, big workplace shenanigans, blown proposal, body image issues, but also there's cookies, dem trust issues doe, ethari has a very different morning than runaan does, flirting at work, fun food innuendo, if you wanna be my lover you got to get with my friends, it's surveillance all the way down, janaya - Freeform, just home life things, more food innuendo god, nakey singing, not all cages are made of metal, okay i lied i put Runaan in the closet again, open floor plans don't have doorknobs, please see chapter 11's notes, pushy rich guys amirite, return of the winglesbians, risky business, runaan in a suit, runaan quotes Taken, security cam shenanigans, strip game, the only time Runaan is in the closet, traumatic flashback, two gay disasters can't pick what to wear, uhhh is this a slow burn, workplace fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 108,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulterriblequeen/pseuds/beautifulterriblequeen
Summary: Ethari works in an eyeglass shop, and a handsome new customer shows up, needing his gentle expertise.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 329
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter 1

It was the way he opened the door, Ethari decided later, that caught his eye. Tall, slender, and serious, the man looked like any number of business professionals who came into the eyeglass shop on Main Street. Standard business attire, casually unbuttoned charcoal pea coat. Yet he opened the door with an air of deliberate grace that put Ethari in mind of a dancer, or maybe a martial artist. This was a man who knew exactly where his place was in the world, down to the last millimeter.

Also, he was _hot_.

Those brilliant turquoise eyes, that aristocratic nose, those glorious cheekbones, those full lips. Ethari lost his breath before he got any lower than the man’s broad shoulders.

Hurriedly, he rose from behind the counter and crossed the century-old wooden floor, dodging the desks topped with mirrors, hoping he wasn’t breathing too quickly or walking too fast. _Don’t look too eager, Ethari,_ he told himself. _The others are helping other customers. I’ll get to talk to him even if I’m five seconds slower._

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m Ethari.”

“Mmm. Runaan.” Those crystalline eyes studied his face closely for just a moment too long, but seemed satisfied with what they found.

“Can I help you find anything today?” _It would be my genuine pleasure._

The man reached into a pocket and flashed a folded slip of paper, held precisely between two fingers. “I have a prescription. Just need to pick the right frames.”

Ethari hummed at the thought of all the tiny little touches and adjustments that frame selection entailed, but he managed to keep his smile merely warm. His fingers tingled with anticipation. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Runaan blinked and shifted his gaze to the walls of frames on display, their brightly backlit rows set between pillars of original red brick. His pale brows bent at the prospect of searching through dozens of options. “Um.”

Ethari’s smile turned sympathetic. He saw that look a lot. “I can help you narrow your choices to something manageable, unless you’d just like to browse for a while…?” he prompted.

Runaan focused on him again. The sensation was welcome, but intense, like getting hit in a pillow fight with the ocean itself. “I welcome your assistance.”

“Then I’m at your service.” Ethari clasped his hands loosely and began stepping back toward the nearest display. Runaan was pulled into his wake, following at a polite distance. “Have you ever had glasses before?”

Runaan opened his mouth to speak and hesitated— _god_ , hesitation looked good on him. Ethari suspected he didn’t show it often. “Ah, no. Just getting older, I guess.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Ethari replied easily. He gestured toward Runaan’s pocket. “Reading or distance?”

Runaan glanced toward his pocket, too, not realizing Ethari had stopped walking backward. “Hmm?” he murmured, looking back up inquiringly.

Ethari sucked in a quiet breath as Runaan stopped just before colliding with him, nose to nose. They stood almost of a height, their eyes wide, warm copper and cool turquoise assessing each other at what usually passed for intimate closeness. “R-Reading?” Ethari stuttered.

Runaan’s eyes flickered for the barest of moments, dropping toward Ethari’s lips before he caught himself and stepped back. “Distance.”

Ethari’s breathing eased a little, though his tummy did a little flip. He nodded with another smile. “Let’s take a look, then. What colors do you like?” He gestured to the displays in general. Frames gleamed with hues from pewter to vivid primary colors to matte black.

Runaan turned his head to gaze down the length of the wall. A flick of white by his hip caught Ethari’s eye. A ponytail. A really long, immaculately trimmed, perfectly tamed ponytail.

“—think?” Runaan’s voice swam in from the sudden heat fog that clouded Ethari’s mind.

Ethari snapped his eyes up to Runaan’s, worried he’d been caught staring in the vicinity of Runaan’s ass. _Oh god, please don’t even go there yet_. His cheeks felt hot, and he stood wearing a breathless smile for half a second too long before he remembered how to talk. “Sorry?”

Runaan’s eyes searched his face for just a second. “I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure. I was wondering what colors you think would look best.”

 _Embarrassment Pink, perhaps?_ Ethari segued into motion, daring to touch the back of Runaan’s elbow to draw him along with him. He kept his eyes on the frames, looking for professional work styles. “What do you like to wear?”

“For what?” Runaan looked over at him curiously.

Ethari’s composure cracked, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I’m sorry. I meant to ask what colors you wear to work, if that’s where you’ll be wearing these frames. I’m just trying to coordinate your look for you.”

A brief smile smoothed away Runaan’s confusion. “Of course. Sorry. I should’ve realized.”

 _That I was accidentally flirting with you?_ “No, it’s my fault.”

“I like dark colors. Blue, sometimes green. Lots of gray.”

Ethari allowed himself a frank study of Runaan from head to toe. His button-front shirt was a beautiful midnight blue, and his pants matched his charcoal pea coat perfectly. Dark leather shoes that were a bit less formal than expected completed his outfit. “I can work with this,” Ethari murmured.

Runaan’s white brows lifted inquisitively. “Then I await your instruction.”

Heat tickled Ethari’s cheeks again, and he hoped his dark skin hid it from Runaan’s notice. “Let’s get started then. First, let me take your jacket. This could take a while, and we want to get it just right.” He stepped behind Runaan and eased his fingers around the collar of Runaan’s pea coat.

His eyes widened for a moment as a bright silvery hair ornament hovered right in front of his vision. The finery was shaped like a complex Celtic knot and held in place at the top of Runaan’s long ponytail with a small stylized dagger that looked like it was actually sharp. A few soft weaves of braid brought his thick hair together just above the ornamental clasp. The effect was entrancing and put Ethari in mind of Viking warriors.

He caught himself staring and twitched his hands into motion, pulling Runaan’s coat from his shoulders. Somehow the sudden sensation of Runaan’s body heat against his fingertips came as a surprise, and Ethari had to clench his teeth to stifle a soft but heartfelt curse. Runaan held his shoulders back and let Ethari ease his coat free. The way the heavy coat slid down Runaan’s arms and revealed his broad shoulders right in front of Ethari’s eyes left him dizzy. The thin fabric of his deep blue shirt pulled taut around muscular deltoids and stretched across sturdy traps. Ethari had never identified so hard with Hayley Atwell’s nearly irresistible urge to reach out and touch someone’s musculature in his life. _Do not think about America’s ass right now. Just don’t._

Instead, Ethari sucked in a steadying breath. But that only filled his nose with Runaan’s scent: sweet and cool, powerful but elusive. _Holy shit, that’s enticing._ He stilled the tremble in his hands as he swung Runaan’s coat over the back of the nearest tall customer chair, and he slid the mirror on the high desk into the center, claiming it for later.

“Now, let’s see.” Ethari stepped back around Runaan, whose eyes tracked him closely. He reached for that firm chin without thinking and just barely caught himself in time. “Is it cool if I touch your face? I just want to get an idea of your bone structure. Different frames look better on different faces.”

Runaan blinked in surprise and looked down as if he could see his own cheekbones. “I… Will that help?”

Ethari reluctantly let his hands drop and laced his fingers together behind his back. _He’s too hot, I’m being pushy._ “Sorry, that was inappropriate. We can just try some frames and see which look best.”

Runaan’s eyes dropped toward where Ethari had hidden his hands. Did his cheeks just turn a little pink? Surely not. “No, _I’m_ sorry. I told you, I’ve never done this before. I was only trying to understand, not judge. Please, go ahead. You’re correct. We want to get this just right.”

“Okay. Turn toward the light a little more?” A soft hand on Runaan’s warm, muscled shoulder urged him to pivot toward Ethari. “There we go. Now, let’s see about those cheekbones.”

With a deep breath that helped focus his mind on his work, Ethari gently took Runaan’s face in his fingertips. He turned Runaan’s head to the left, then the right, noting the way the light played across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Those cheekbones were magnificent. Broad and smooth, giving excellent structure to his oval face. Ethari was pretty sure he knew what frames would look best on such a face. But there was no rush, was there? He should double check. “Okay, look down for me.”

Runaan tilted his head down, and a small smile stole across his features, as if he thought Ethari couldn’t see it. _Oh, god, where did I point his eyes?_ Of _course_ a flare of heat chose that moment to flourish between Ethari’s legs. “And now up,” he blurted, capturing Runaan’s chin and lifting it sharply.

Their eyes met. Runaan’s lips parted.

Ethari saw double as a vision invaded his mind, of pressing Runaan back against the old brick wall for a passionate kiss. He probably tasted like berries and honey, or some European breakfast croissant. He probably tried to keep quiet when he got passionate. Ethari suddenly wanted to make Runaan be loud. _Be good. You could just be imagining every single reaction you think he’s having._

Runaan’s eyes shifted to focus over Ethari’s shoulder as if meeting someone’s eye elsewhere in the shop. Ethari’s eyes widened. _What am I doing? I’m at work. And I’m intimidating a customer just because he’s hot. Oh god, what am I—_

But Runaan looked back at Ethari, and that small smile returned. He leaned in close enough for Ethari to feel the heat of his breath as he murmured, “Don’t stop now.” Ethari’s mouth hung open in surprise. “I find your expertise invaluable.” Runaan settled a hand against his waist for the barest of moments. And as he pulled his hand free, his fingers brushed Ethari’s hip.

Ethari tried to breathe and swallow at the same moment and choked on his own spit. The smile that split his face was decidedly less professional as he gestured toward the displayed frames. “Anything else we should consider before you try some of these on? How flexible do you need things to be?”

Runaan raised one eyebrow. “What?”

Ethari played back what he’d said and spun to face the wall of frames to hide his wince. He picked up some wire frames and held them out for Runaan to see. He braced his thumbs against the frame’s long slender temples and pushed outward, showing their flexible hinges.

Runaan’s doubtful expression cleared, replaced with pleased eagerness. “I definitely need that.”

“Alright, then. Let’s see…” Ethari browsed the wall with a practiced eye and tapped his finger against the supports for four different frames, all with flexible hinges and rectangular lenses of slightly different proportions. “Any of these catch your eye?”

When Ethari turned to Runaan, he was just raising his eyes to the indicated frames—from somewhere much further south. “Dark gray, pewter, black, and… another black?” he said.

“Deep blue, actually,” Ethari said, trying not to focus on the fact that Runaan had just been checking out his ass. “Like your shirt.”

“Hmm.” Runaan’s hum was skeptical, and in that moment, Ethari knew he wanted to convince Runaan to choose the blue frames.

Ethari lifted the pewter frames down and held them out. “Let’s start with these.”

Runaan reached for them, but his hand hovered hesitantly.

“Here, let me.” Ethari stepped closer and eased the frame’s temples over Runaan’s ears until the glasses settled in place on his nose. “How’s that feel?”

Runaan tilted his head a little. “I don’t know. Heavy? What do you think?” A soft vulnerability flickered in his eyes.

Ethari’s fingers fluttered around the frames, checking that they were seated properly around his ears and high enough on his nose. “We can do any little adjustments for fitting later, don’t worry.”

“No, I mean, what do you think of these frames, on me?”

“Oh.” Ethari paused and stepped back. The rectangular lenses were definitely the way to go, though the width might look better with another pair. The outer edges of the frames seems a tiny bit narrow for Runaan’s face.

“Ethari? Not good?” Runaan prompted.

Ethari reached up and gently eased the glasses from Runaan’s face. “It’s close. Let’s get a bigger sample size, okay?”

The black pair went on next, and Ethari let his fingertips graze Runaan’s cheeks as he slid them into place with his thumbs. “Oh, I like this,” he murmured.

“Yes?”

“Take a look.” He reached for those magnificent shoulders again and turned Runaan toward the nearest mirror. Runaan’s hair clasp gleamed against that long white ponytail, but Ethari leaned forward, focusing on Runaan’s face in the mirror. “See how wide the frames are, right here?” He stood just behind Runaan, reached forward, and traced the frames’ edges with his fingertips. “Excellent framing for your eyes, great fit for your cheekbones.”

But Runaan wasn’t looking at the glasses in the mirror. He was watching Ethari.

Ethari met his gaze in the mirror. “Not feeling it?”

Runaan’s smile was slow, and he finally studied the frames in his reflection. “Feeling something. Not black, though. It’s a little too dark.”

“More of a shades of gray guy, huh?” Ethari said. “Hold still, and I’ll get those off for you.” He reached for the glasses from behind, and Runaan held still within the circle of his arms. With practiced fingers, Ethari put the black frames away and selected another pair. When Ethari turned back, holding the gray frames, Runaan was studying him closely, and a smile lurked around his lips.

Ethari eased the gray frames on, and Runaan studied him frankly as he made tiny adjustments—unnecessary adjustments—along Runaan’s ears and atop his cheeks. His fingers tingled from all the soft touching.

“I wish I’d come in sooner,” Runaan murmured.

Ethari lifted Runaan’s chin with one finger and turned his face a little to each side. These frames were less interesting. But Runaan letting him control his head felt very rewarding indeed. “Why didn’t you?”

“You know how people put off things they don’t want to learn for the first time?”

“Mmhmm.” Ethari turned Runaan to face the wall mirror again. He hovered over Runaan’s shoulder in their reflection, and they both studied the gray frames.

“I forgot to consider that I might learn something useful,” Runaan confessed to the mirror. “Something… unexpected.”

“Something good?” Ethari inquired softly.

“Hmm, we’re not there yet.” Runaan took off the gray frames and turned to face Ethari. He held them out with clinical precision, and Ethari’s shoulders slumped. “But yes. Something good,” he added in the same soft tone Ethari had used.

Ethari’s grin warmed him down to his toes. “Then you’re really going to like this next part.” He put the gray frames back and picked up his favorite. “Look, they match your shirt.”

Runaan’s voice wore hesitation like a light jacket. “Is that necessary?”

Ethari’s hands paused in midair as he was about to slid the frames onto Runaan’s face. “No, but it’s a great perk.”

Runaan chuckled and reached for Ethari’s hands, easing them toward his face until the frames settled in place. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to sell me a pair of glasses for every shirt I own.”

“That depends on how many shirts you own,” Ethari said, and then instantly regretted it. How was that any of his business?

But Runaan only laughed, a low, warm velvet that sent ripples up Ethari’s spine and shivered his skin. “I have a _lot_ of shirts.”

Ethari chuckled. “I should’ve guessed. Let’s take a look at this pair. I think you’ll like the result.” Ethari’s hands found Runaan’s shoulders again and lingered a moment after turning him to face the mirror. “See? A great color match, for one. This’ll be your power shirt. A deadly combination that’ll get everyone to do what you say.”

To Ethari’s surprise, a tiny grin flitted across Runaan’s lips. “They already do whatever I say.”

“I can see why,” Ethari said lightly. But his cheeks bloomed hot again. He cleared his throat and reached around to claim Runaan’s chin while studying his reflection. “See how the frames are just wide enough? That’s the look you want.” He turned Runaan’s face from side to side and moved from behind one shoulder to the other in the mirror.

“You mean this look?” Runaan met his eyes in the mirror. With his chin angled slightly downward, his gaze rose from just below his brows. Those wide turquoise eyes held challenge and control like a pair of leashed panthers, caged only temporarily by the deep blue metallic frames.

“ _Ynghhh_ …” Ethari’s hand fell away from Runaan’s chin. He couldn’t remember how words worked.

Runaan grinned and pulled his phone from his pants pocket, unlocking it with a steely gaze that intimidated Ethari by proxy. “Could you do me a favor? I want to try these all on again. Can you take pictures for me?”

“S-Sure.” Ethari accepted Runaan’s phone with extra care.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Runaan added. “It’s more that I don’t trust myself. I can stare at myself all day long, and I’ll still just see… me.”

“I get that.” Ethari nodded.

“So I want to know what you see when you look at me.”

Ethari’s answers flickered through a dozen things he dared not say aloud. “Happy to help.”

Runaan tried on all of the frames again, and Ethari took pictures from straight on as well as from the sides. He even offered to do panning videos, which Runaan agreed to, though he seemed a little uncomfortable being the entire focus of Ethari’s videoing. Ethari distracted him with a running nonsense commentary during the last three, which seemed to put Runaan more at ease.

He handed Runaan his phone again and turned to put those pretty blue frames back on the wall. When he turned around again, Runaan was swiping through the first photos, but he’d automatically turned to show them to Ethari. Ethari leaned in to examine the pictures with Runaan, letting his chest press lightly against Runaan’s shoulder. “See here, the difference in the frame width?” he murmured, swiping ahead and then back through the recent photos for comparison.

“I do now. I admit, I wasn’t really following what you were saying before.”

“I’m glad the pictures helped,” Ethari said brightly.

Runaan tapped play on one of the videos, and Ethari heard his own voice emanating from Runaan’s phone: _“And panning around to the right, uhm, your left, here we go, looking stunning as always—”_

Runaan tapped pause, staring down at his phone.

Ethari froze.

Runaan thumbed over to the next video and played it, too.

_“And going from right to left this time, just orbiting your handsome face like a moon around the earth, don’t mind me—”_

Runaan made a soft noise as if he were stifling a cough. He swiped to the last video.

_“Not gonna lie, Runaan, these frames really are my favorites, not only do they match your shirt and complement your eyes, they look amazing with your lovely white hair. Fabulous contrast, very fetching, you could have your pick of any man you want in these.”_

Runaan’s eyes remained on his phone for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only five seconds. Ethari felt his whole body go hot with embarrassment at what he’d said. What he’d left video evidence of, in his customer’s hands.

But when Runaan lifted his gaze to Ethari’s, it wasn’t sharp with accusation. The man’s cheeks had gotten distinctly pink, and his tone was soft with apology. “I didn’t realize I was being so obvious with my preferences. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

Ethari’s embarrassment fluttered into a cloud of butterflies. _If he made_ me _uncomfortable?_ _Wow, for a guy with killer looks, he’s intensely oblivious. Or maybe I really_ am _making all this up. Just because he’s gay too doesn’t mean he’s into me. Just do your job, Ethari. God’s sake, you’re a hopeless romantic—_

Ethari realized he’d been staring at Runaan for the past few seconds. His cheeks flushed dark and hot, and he bit his lip in embarrassment. Runaan reached past him and picked up the blue frames again, as if to study them instead of putting Ethari on the spot.

“Sorry,” Ethari murmured. “Sorry, my fault entirely. I wasn’t uncomfortable at all. I think… maybe the opposite… very unprofessional of me. I should be the one apologizing.”

Runaan jerked his gaze back to Ethari just as he was reaching out to settle the frames back on their tiny stand. The lovely blue frames teetered on their support and toppled off. “Ah, shit…” Runaan made a grab for them and only succeeded in knocking two more frames down as well.

Ethari lurched forward, anticipating the directions of the frames’ tumbles after having seen this happen a few dozen times before. His hands managed to catch all three frames before any of them clattered down onto the low countertop. Runaan’s hands ended up cupping his in an attempt to corral the frames.

Pressed shoulder to shoulder, they exchanged a long, wordless glance.

“Sorry,” Runaan whispered.

“Please don’t be,” Ethari murmured back. “About anything.”

Runaan absorbed that with a slight widening of his eyes. “Those are some nice reflexes,” he added. “You had a much better reaction time than I did. Impressive.”

Ethari chuckled and finally moved back a little, resetting the frames one by one. _What does he do that he needs quick reflexes for? He can’t have lost them because he’s_ flustered _, can he?_ “I only have good reflexes in here. I’ve had lots of practice catching falling frames.” He started to put the frames back on their little stands.

Runaan’s warm fingers halted Ethari’s wrist as he put the blue frames back. “Not those.”

Ethari’s fingers held them gently. “You want these?”

Runaan glanced toward the nearby mirror, then back at the frames, then up at Ethari. His eyebrows rose invitingly.

Ethari grinned. “Let’s be sure they’re the look you want.” He slid the frames onto Runaan’s face again and turned him gently toward the mirror.

Runaan studied Ethari’s reflection. “Thoughts?” he asked.

Ethari didn’t hesitate. His fingers found Runaan’s chin again and he turned it slowly from side to side, admiring the play of light across Runaan’s cheekbones as much as the deep blue of the glasses frames. “Perfection.”

“I’ll take them, then. Will you take them off for me, too? Don’t want to jinx it now that I’ve said yes.” Runaan turned around and backed up flush against the mirror, lifting his chin just a bit for Ethari.

Ethari swore he could see his own reflection surging in against Runaan for a passionate kiss. He could practically feel Runaan’s hands on his cheeks, and tugging at his waist. Would he be the sort of man who wrapped a leg around Ethari’s hip during such kisses? Ethari hoped so. He let out a breath, smiled warmly, and eased the blue frames from Runaan’s face. Somehow being without them made him seem just a little more open and vulnerable. Or was that just Ethari’s wishful thinking again? Runaan was very self-assured. Surely he had no weaknesses at all.

“Right this way,” he told Runaan, “and I’ll get you all set.”

“After you,” Runaan replied in a voice that had gone a bit husky.

Ethari managed to turn around and head for the little desk where he’d left Runaan’s pea coat before his composure cracked. He had to drop his customer service smile and focus on a few deep breaths before he felt he could face his intensely attractive customer again, but neither of the other employees noticed, since they were busy helping their own customers. And when he pulled out Runaan’s tall chair for him, his bright smile was back in place.

Runaan sat easily across from him, slipping into the chair like a dancer. The way he managed to slouch at attention didn’t seem humanly possible, but he sat there seeming ready for anything from a chill philosophical conversation to a sudden ninja battle.

Ethari set the blue frames on the desktop and took his seat with a little less grace, finding himself suddenly intimidated at the thought of facing Runaan across a desk for a mere fifteen minutes’ worth of paperwork. _C’mon, I work here. I can do this with a handsome stranger. Mmmm, I can do a lot of things with this_ particular _handsome stranger._

Ethari cleared his throat and fetched a few papers from a slender drawer along the side of the desk, shoving his heated fantasies to the back burner.

The first few minutes passed easily enough as Ethari jotted notes on the frames and Runaan’s preferences. “Looks like a bridge size 17 fits you perfectly, and these are…” he checked the numbers along the frame’s temple, “…a 54… huh.”

“Something wrong?” Runaan’s gaze was just direct enough to be distracting.

Ethari smiled and shook his head. “Not at all. The color of these frames is called _Ink_. That’s about as specific as saying something’s color is _Fruit_.”

Runaan let out a soft snort of amusement, and Ethari felt his chest fill with warmth. The white-haired man shifted forward and leaned an elbow on the desk, keeping his eyes on Ethari’s paperwork. “I once had a customer tell me that the variety of items I had on display looked like a _monochromatic rainbow_.”

Ethari squinted at him. “Hmmm.”

“Exactly.”

“What were you selling?”

Runaan dipped his head to the side. “Not a rainbow.”

“Secretive, hmm? I can respect that,” Ethari replied lightly. He wondered again what Runaan did for a living.

Runaan paused, eyebrows raised, as if he’s suddenly remembered where he was. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“My habits tend to include things like lens options,” Ethari added teasingly. “Can I tempt you into considering an antireflective coating?”

Runaan leaned forward as if engaging in a clandestine meeting, but his grin was warm. “You most certainly can.”

Ethari nearly combusted when he felt Runaan’s foot nudge against his on the footrest of his own tall chair. “Good. Great.” He scooted his foot away, then realized that might seem like a rejection and scooted it back over. “Uhh… where was I…?”

Runaan helpfully scooted his foot over until it pressed against Ethari’s again. His ankle snugged right against Ethari’s. “Here?”

“ _Hhrgbl_ —” Ethari quickly turned his fluster into a cough. When he dared to look up at Runaan, he could feel his cheeks flaming. He wanted to say something about being daring, something about appropriate workplace behavior, but he knew darn well what he’d been up to ever since he slipped Runaan’s coat off those finely muscled shoulders. So he just smiled breathlessly, tried not to read too much into the harmless flirting, and fumbled through the rest of the selections on the page in front of him.

“And do you have insurance you’d like us to bill?” he asked at the end.

Runaan pressed his foot against Ethari’s and rubbed softly. “Cash is fine.”

Ethari’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t question anything about his intense, mysterious customer anymore. Especially not when he’d gotten several minutes of footsie out of their exchange. “Then, uhm, follow me over to the counter and Opeli will get you squared away.”

He could’ve sworn that Runaan’s ears actually drooped. “Done already, hmm? That was fast. I definitely should’ve done this sooner.” But he readily trailed after Ethari to the checkout counter at the back of the long, narrow shop.

Ethari stepped around the black marble counter and handed the paperwork to Opeli, the shop’s Karen-esque receptionist. Instead of sitting on the tall stool he’d been perched on when Runaan came in, he stepped closer and leaned his elbows onto the dark stone of the high counter.

Opeli was unusually attentive as she gathered a few details from Runaan, and Ethari had to wonder if she was flirting with him, too. He’d never seen her flirt with _anyone_ before. But Runaan was the kind of man who could draw the eye of everyone of any gender—gorgeous, self-assured, and exuding some powerfully intoxicating energy without seeming to realize it. Ethari felt a strange flicker of unease in his belly.

As if he could sense that, Runaan eased one elbow onto the countertop near Ethari’s fingers without shifting his attention from Opeli. His pinky stretched just a little toward Ethari, and Ethari’s tummy flipped all over again. While Ethari tried to contain his smile, Runaan answered Opeli’s questions easily, handed her his folded eyeglass prescription, and popped his credit card in the machine when prompted.

Ethari glanced over as he pulled it back out and caught a single word of the business name imprinted on it: Titan.

_I know that name. Where do I know that name from?_

“Should take about a week,” Opeli said winningly. “We’ll be in touch when they’re ready for you to pick up.”

Runaan nodded. “Thank you.”

Not one to let an opportunity get away, Ethari said, “Let me walk you out.”

Runaan smiled and silently dipped his head toward the chair that held his coat.

The men walked side by side back across the shop toward the front door. Ethari eased around and picked up Runaan’s coat, holding it out for him. Runaan’s hair clasp winked in the bright lights as he pulled his ponytail over his shoulder and eased his arms into the coat sleeves. Ethari glided the coat up Runaan’s arms and let it hug his shoulders. He’d never been jealous of a piece of clothing before. His fingers lingered a moment too long as he settled the pea coat in place, so when Runaan turned to thank him, one of Ethari’s hands found itself atop Runaan’s shoulder.

“Sorry.” He lifted it free.

Runaan caught it as it fell to Ethari’s side, though, and his fingertips curled around Ethari’s inner wrist, gliding across that smooth, delicate skin and resting atop his pulse.

Ethari’s pulse was _pounding_. Just knowing that Runaan could feel it made it pound harder. Ethari’s cheeks opted to flush hard, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

“Thank you.” Runaan’s voice was hushed, as if they spoke in a church, or a graveyard. “Your assistance was invaluable. I’m glad you were available to give me such a personal touch. I feel very taken care of.” He squeezed Ethari’s wrist gently.

“I was glad to,” Ethari managed. “Anytime.”

“Anytime?” Runaan’s brows drew together, high with gentle inquisition.

 _Oops_. “I mean, once your glasses are ready… I’ll be happy to make all the initial adjustments you need, and please feel free to come back anytime for more fine tuning if the fit isn’t exactly what you’re looking for. I’m always happy to make changes to ensure you a perfect fit.” _God, why does that sound dirty? And desperate! Ethari, get it together. You’ve known him less than an hour!_

Runaan’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and his lips parted. But he blinked and brought himself back to focus on Ethari again with a faint flush on his cheeks. “I appreciate that. I’ll see you next week, then.” His smile was dazzling. “Goodbye, Ethari.”

“Bye, Runaan. Next week it is.”

With a farewell nod, the man exited the glasses shop and headed down the broad sidewalk that lined Main Street. Ethari stepped around the high desk in the middle of the old wooden floor and watched him through one of the large plate glass windows that fronted the shop. That ponytail swayed in the chill winter breeze like a frosty beam of moonlight, bright and gleaming against Runaan’s charcoal coat, and the silvery Celtic knot and dagger at the base of Runaan’s neck glinted brightly.

And then he _turned_. Already smiling, as if he knew Ethari would be watching him. Hands jammed in his pockets, sun on his cheeks, bright eyes twinkling. His hair whirled around him like anime magic.

Ethari felt his whole face light up. He raised a hand halfway in farewell.

Runaan lifted his chin, still grinning, and sauntered out of view. But Ethari’s mind was already replaying every light touch, every glance, every word they’d just exchanged. _Mmmff. He’s perfect._

“Ethari.” A light smack on his arm brought him back to the moment.

“Hmm?” he murmured, still gazing softly through the window.

“Look,” Opeli said, “I get you wanting to take care of such a high profile customer, but you might’ve overdone it. When he comes back next week, maybe you shouldn’t—”

“Relax, Opeli.” Ethari turned to look at her with a soft grin. “He liked it.”

She stared up at him steadily. “Are you _a hundred percent_ _sure_?”

Ethari could still feel Runaan’s fingertips on his wrist. “Yep. Wait. _High profile_ customer?” _She’s talking about more than just his pretty face._

Opeli’s soft blue eyes bugged. “You’re telling me you _didn’t_ know who he was?” she asked incredulously.

Ethari’s tummy suddenly flipped for a whole new reason. “Oh shit. Am I gonna feel like an idiot?”

Opeli gave him a onceover. “Maybe. You’d do better to feel lucky you’re still in one piece.”

Cold tendrils invaded the warm fuzziness that Ethari had been happily cultivating. “…What? Why?”

Opeli gestured emphatically with both hands toward where Runaan had vanished from sight. “Runaan Deimos? Of Titan Security Solutions?”

Ethari’s voice went faint with shock. “You’re _shitting_ me.” Several thoughts rocketed through his mind at the same time. _How would I have known that? I’ve never actually seen a picture of Deimos. He used to be that one actor’s bodyguard a few years back. Nearly died saving his life. Something about a kidnapping attempt? Sh-shit. I just flirted with a guy who’s fought off_ actual hijackers _. Took_ way _too many liberties with his face—oh god. Why did he let me do that? He could’ve stopped me twenty different ways. But he didn’t. Why did he let me_ do _that?_

Ethari stared, wide-eyed, after Runaan. He’d looked back at Ethari as he left. And he’d smiled. The answer was tantalizingly obvious.

_Because... he liked it._

Next week seemed like forever. But Ethari already couldn’t wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan's glasses are ready.   
> Ethari is, too.  
> Just some fluffy workplace shenanigans for you.

The next week seemed to last about seven years. Ethari found himself checking the clock on the wall or glancing at his phone several times every hour. Desperate as he was to make time flow more quickly, his constant checking only made it seem to move more slowly instead. But he couldn’t stop himself. Runaan had been _that_ entrancing, and Ethari couldn’t wait to see him again.

To put his hands on that handsome face, to see those glorious turquoise eyes again, to feel Runaan’s foot teasing his under the table—

_I need to make sure we sit at the table, then_ , Ethari realized with a jolt. It was one thing to flirt lightly around the edges of the glasses frames, in plain sight of everyone. But it was another to feel that subtle nudge of Runaan’s foot against his own, an unmistakable message of interest.

Ethari leaned his hands against his bathroom sink on the morning that Runaan’s glasses were to be delivered to the shop. _Please, let him be interested in me, too. I can’t stop thinking about him._ He raised his eyes to his own reflection in the mirror and sighed at the sight of the soft longing in his eyes. _Look at me, I’m a total mess over him. I’ve checked on his order every single morning. I’ve peeked at his phone number in Opeli’s files and stashed it in my phone, in case I can come up with an excuse to call him. I’ve googled him every night before I fall asleep, looking for more information about him—and there really isn’t much. He’s a beautiful enigma._

A sudden thought stiffened his spine, and his reflection’s eyes widened. _He runs a security company. Is he googling me, too? Shit, he’s already run a thorough background check on me, hasn’t he? What’s he gonna find? Do I have any unpaid parking tickets?_

Ethari stuck his tongue out at himself and grinned. _At least I’m not a hijacker, or something scary like that. If anything, he’ll just think I’m boring_. He straightened, ran his fingers through his hair in a familiar gesture that never managed to smooth it out at all, and reached for his lavender button-front shirt. _Alright, Ethari, get out there and be your charming self._ _You got this._

Ethari was prepared for an endless day of breathless waiting to see Runaan again, but not five minutes after he double-checked that Runaan’s glasses had indeed arrived, Opeli tapped his arm with the end of her pen and flicked a blond eyebrow toward the door. “You’re up, cutie.”

Over the past week, Opeli had loosened her normally uptight demeanor just a bit and decided to ship it. Ever since she caught him checking on Runaan’s order status twice in the same morning, she’d started sending Ethari knowing looks. And though she managed to keep her concerns about his interest in their new high-profile customer to herself, the way she squeezed his arm and murmured “Just be _careful_ ” told him that she was worried about more than just their business reputation if things didn’t pan out the way Ethari wanted. She didn’t want him to get his hopes up too high and get them dashed. Opeli was a highly organized employee, but that only made her more suited to being a surrogate big sister, too.

Somehow, knowing that Opeli had picked up on his interest in Runaan, even if she supported it, made Ethari feel even more emotionally exposed. He felt his cheeks go hot even before he turned toward the shop’s front door.

He sucked in a deep breath and pivoted slowly, trying to brace for the sight of Runaan right there in the shop again, trying to keep his heart rate under control. Trying not to act like the utterly smitten fool he was.

It didn’t work.

Runaan was just stepping in out of the bright morning sun, and Ethari caught the flare of his haloed white head and a glowing flash of ponytail before the man eased into the shop’s interior. Runaan’s charcoal pea coat flared in dramatic fashion as he moved through the door, exposing a dark teal shirt that did miracles for his eyes. His long-legged stride across the entirety of the shop’s floor was a slow-motion dance of grace and power. Arms loose at his sides, chin high, turquoise eyes bright and fixed on Ethari with every step, Runaan stalked back into Ethari’s life like a dazzling panther.

Ethari had no breath left to lose by the time Runaan reached the counter where he and Opeli waited. And then the man opened his mouth, and that glorious velvety voice poured out.

How had Ethari managed to forget how heavenly Runaan’s voice was?

“Good morning,” Runaan began. “I was just passing, and I thought I’d check to see if my—”

“Oh, they’re here,” Opeli chirped.

_Chirped_. The woman hadn’t been chipper a day in her life, and now she was _chirping_.

Ethari couldn’t help it. The situation was so intense that he burst into quiet laughter to shake off the tension before it strangled him.

“Did I say something funny?” Runaan asked hesitantly.

“No, no,” Ethari reassured him, waving an easy hand. He’d just been asking a simple question. Probably hadn’t given Ethari much thought in the past week. And here Ethari and Opeli were behaving like first year acting students, getting their emotions all out of proportion. “It’s just that I literally just checked on today’s orders, and then here you are, as if summoned. I didn’t know I had that power.”

Opeli’s eyes widened, and she shot Ethari a warning glance not to push his luck with the important customer so soon.

But Runaan merely lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “Hidden talent, hmm? How efficient.”

Ethari sent Opeli an fondly exasperated look. To Runaan, he offered, “If you’re busy now, we can set up an appointment for the adjustments later today, or whenever you’re free. I’m available any time you need me. For uhm, the glasses,” he fumbled. _Damn_ , his cheeks were hot. Could Runaan tell?

Runaan’s other eyebrow joined the first one halfway up his forehead. “Now is good, actually. I have several meetings today, and I’d like to keep my look consistent.”

Opeli practically leaped to hand Ethari the case with Runaan’s new frames inside. “Off you go then,” she said, nudging Ethari around the counter and toward the center of the empty shop. “I’ve got some, uh, _filing_ to do in the back, so take your time.” With a wink that she probably thought was subtle, Opeli sashayed through the doorway into the staff room.

Ethari’s mouth fell open in surprise. There were no filing cabinets in the staff room.

He stared after her a moment too long, and Runaan noticed. “Problem?”

“Hmm? No, not at all. Let’s get started. I can’t wait to see these on you. You’ll really knock ‘em dead.” He rested a hand lightly against Runaan’s back and guided him to the furthest table, out by the plate glass windows, where Opeli couldn’t eavesdrop. Runaan moved easily at his side, letting Ethari’s hand rest against him. His body heat was radiant, and Ethari had a hard time keeping his hand from smoothing its way down to the small of Runaan’s back. It was definitely enough that Runaan kept his pace matching Ethari’s and allowed that soft contact all the way out to the table. The silent permission to touch made Ethari’s vision gleefully go double for a moment, and in that temporary alternate reality, he did slide his hand down Runaan’s back and pulled him into a hard embrace, cupping the back of his neck and pressing their hot mouths together with eager longing.

_Nnnhh, I need to know what he tastes like._ Ethari bit his lip as they reached the table. “Coat?” he offered, reaching tentatively.

“Thank you.” Runaan turned his back, and Ethari eased the pea coat off his shoulders.

Ready this time for the warm rush of Runaan’s scent, he breathed in subtly, appreciating its cool crispness. Half breathless in the best way, Ethari set the coat on the back of Runaan’s high chair and headed around to his own.

When he sat and glanced over at Runaan, he saw that effortless grace once again as the man slid into his seat. He also got an eyeful of teal button-front. The deep bluish shirt hugged Runaan’s physique lightly, framing his toned slenderness and radiating color that made his eyes dance and his hair positively blaze.

It was a _very_ good look. How lucky that Runaan had worn it today so Ethari could get to see it!

He realized he’d been staring for several seconds too many, and he jerked his eyes up from Runaan’s shirt. “You did say you had a lot of shirts,” Ethari blurted, by way of apology for his staring.

Runaan’s eyes widened, and he glanced down as if he’d forgotten which shirt he’d put on that day. But he kept his head down for a moment, and Ethari was half sure that he spotted a slight flush on Runaan’s cheeks.

Runaan looked back up, an easy smile in place. “So. Here we are again,” he murmured.

Ethari distinctly felt Runaan plunk his foot atop the rung of his chair. He couldn’t help the soft gasp he made through his nose, or his reflexive gulp, either. But he segued into a bright smile anyway. “Here we are.” With light fingers, he lifted the lid on the new glasses case, and while Runaan’s eyes were fixed on its gleaming contents, Ethari gently eased his foot next to Runaan’s on the chair rung and held his breath hopefully.

Runaan’s gaze remained on the glasses, but a smile tugged at one side of his mouth, and his ankle pressed warmly against Ethari’s. “Oh, yes. _That’s_ what I’ve been looking forward to all week.”

“ _Nngh_ , really?” Ethari blurted. Excited tingles shot up his spine. Runaan had been thinking about him after all?

The soft leather toe of Runaan’s shoe eased around the back of Ethari’s heel and began to glide upward, catching his pant leg and brushing against the sensitive skin along his calf. “Mmmm. Seeing clearly is vital to me. For work and for everything else.”

Ethari nearly choked on his gasp. “Th-That’s amazing— So good— I mean, good plan. Yes.” He shot a panicked glance toward the staff room, in case Opeli was spying on them, but the coast was clear. “Let’s try these on you, okay? And then I’ll make any little adjustments that you need.”

“That’s very accommodating of you,” Runaan said warmly. The arch of his foot brushed lightly atop Ethari’s.

“It… It’s literally my job,” Ethari stuttered. “But I’m very happy to do it. I like getting the small details just right. Precision is important,” he offered with a smile.

“It very much is.” Runaan scooted forward and leaned onto his elbows, and both of his feet nudged softly around the edges of Ethari’s.

Ethari’s fingers trembled lightly as he unfolded the pretty dark blue frames and eased them gently onto Runaan’s face. “Ah, they’re even nicer than I remember. Is it cool if I…?” he asked, fingers hovering near Runaan’s cheekbones.

“Please.” Runaan lifted his chin, giving tacit permission.

Ethari leaned forward, settling the frames again, brushing against Runaan’s ears as he checked the temples’ curves there, touching along his cheeks, tilting his face up to the light as he studied the effect. “These really are breathtaking on you, Runaan. And you’re not even giving me that Power Look. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen another pair of glasses suit someone so well.”

Runaan kept his chin tilted up, but he dropped his gaze to Ethari’s face. “Would you like me to give you the Power Look?” he asked lightly.

Ethari gave Runaan a lopsided grin. “I’m still recovering from last time, but thank you. If I ever momentarily forget how intense you are, feel free to remind me,” he teased back.

“Duly noted.”

Ethari very much believed that it _had_ been duly noted. “Okay, shake test time.”

“Hmmm?”

Ethari reluctantly let go of Runaan’s face. “I need you to shake your head for me.”

Runaan raised his eyebrows, but silently complied. He gently shook his head, and the soft motion sent his ponytail swaying against the outside of his chair. Ethari couldn’t help glancing down at its bright motion.

But that wasn’t what he needed from Runaan. “Sorry, I should’ve been more specific. I need you to try to shake the glasses off. If you can, then we need to adjust the curve on the temples to hug your ears more tightly.”

“Ear hugging, hmm? Sounds serious.” Runaan traced one of his ears with a finger. Ethari’s eyes were captivated. Then Runaan took a deep breath, and something just a little bit dangerous sparked in his eye.

With a heady mix of dismay and excitement, Ethari instinctively sensed what Runaan was about to do, and he leaned forward. Runaan closed his eyes and shook his head hard. His ponytail flicked out one way, and the glasses flew in the other. Ethari’s hand darted out and managed to snag the frames as they zipped away. He curled his wrist under, and just as Runaan opened his eyes again, Ethari presented the glasses back to him with a smooth flourish as if he did this on the regular. _Wow, I’m really trying to impress this guy, aren’t I?_

Runaan’s lips parted in surprise as he stared at the frames, so suddenly appearing right in front of him again. “I… did not think that through, did I? But your reflexes are, again, _very_ impressive.” He glanced up then, and his eyes were soft and wide and full of apology and wonder.

Ethari tumbled right into them and dragged his heart along, too. “It’s… no trouble. Just part of my job.”

Somehow, those words managed to soften Runaan even further. He blinked and propped his chin on one hand atop the table, studying Ethari with a strange intensity. “This must be what it feels like.”

Ethari felt lost, but not abandoned. “What _what_ feels like?” he asked softly.

“I’ve said those exact words to dozens of people over the years. My particular skill set is so familiar to me that I tend to forget that others find it impressive, or even intimidating. When I do my job properly, they sometimes tell me very nice things, and I never know what to say. Because, like you, I’m just doing my job.”

Ethari felt his brows lower in confusion. “Did you just compare being a bodyguard and a security consultant to working in an eyeglass shop? _Favorably_?”

A strange little smile crossed Runaan’s lips, and the look he gave Ethari was unreadable. But he withdrew his feet from the rung of Ethari’s chair. “So you do know who I am. I wasn’t sure.”

The loss of Runaan’s warmth wasn’t nearly as devastating as the withdrawal of his favor. Had he only been offering it because he thought Ethari didn’t know who he was? Ethari scrambled to get it back. “I… No, it’s fine, I promise. I’ve known all week, but Opeli had to explain it to me… I didn’t know who you were the first time. But I do now, and… and I don’t care. I mean, I _do_ care,” Ethari fumbled, “but I don’t… it’s… I find you…” Ethari managed a helpless chuckle at his own flustered attempts to say what he meant, and just went for it. “You don’t scare me, Runaan. Very much the opposite.”

He followed up his confession by plunking his foot on the rung of Runaan’s chair and held his breath.

Runaan’s eyes widened sharply at the slight vibration. With his chin still resting in his palm, he glanced down, then back at Ethari.

Ethari’s heart was hammering like a mad metalsmith. He swallowed, grinned, and held Runaan’s gaze. _Please, please. Please, you’re fascinating. I want to get to know you._

Runaan sat back in his chair and fixed Ethari with a direct look. “Come here.”

“Wh-What?”

Runaan patted the table top where he’d just propped his elbow. “Sit here and help me with these glasses. You’ll have an easier time of it if you’re closer, won’t you?”

“I-” Ethari glanced back toward the staff room again. Then he looked toward the plate glass windows. If he perched on the table top with Runaan’s chair between his knees, they’d be in full view of anyone who cared to saunter by on this fine winter morning, and the vibe that dynamic would give off would _definitely_ not be a professional one.

Runaan lowered his chin, and a tiny smile twitched across his lips.

Ethari’s eyes widened.

_Oh no, oh god—_

The Power Look smacked Ethari full in the face. Blazing turquoise eyes hooded beneath slender white brows, full of heat and insistence, entirely irresistible. “Ethari. Come here.” Runaan held out a hand expectantly.

Ethari felt his own hand leap to take Runaan’s. It didn’t even consult his brain, which was for the best since Ethari’s mind was currently fritzing. Their fingers curled together, and Runaan tugged lightly to pull Ethari out of his chair. The smooth pull drew Ethari’s eyes along Runaan’s arm to his shoulder, flexing lightly under his teal shirt. _He’s probably an excellent dancer_. The thought sprang unbidden into his mind, along with a whirling visual where everything was a blur except the smiling man in his arms.

He gulped as he reached Runaan’s side of the table, but Runaan offered him a softer look and smiled gently. “Up you go. Do you want a boost?” he teased.

Ethari’s sudden tension melted into a chuckle. Everything was so delightfully absurd, and he _really_ wanted to roll with it. So he just embraced the madness and hopped up onto the table, swinging one leg high over Runaan’s head and dangling it on the far side of him.

And there they sat, eyes locked. Ethari, perched on the table with his knees spread to let Runaan close, breathless, heart pounding, vaguely concerned about getting fired, but far more interested in drowning in Runaan’s deep eyes. And Runaan, sitting on the edge of his seat, face tilted up to a vulnerable angle because of Ethari’s height, eyes wide and expectant.

Runaan laid a hand atop Ethari’s knee. “Ethari, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“ _Hhhhhh_ …” Ethari couldn’t focus on anything other than the soft heat of Runaan’s hand. It drew his gaze and every ounce of his attention.

“Glasses?” Runaan prompted.

Ethari chuckled again, this time at himself. “Of course. Sorry. I, uh… don’t usually work like this. Never, in fact.” He reached behind him for the glasses he’d left on the table.

“Never?” Runaan asked lightly. “I find that hard to believe.”

_Does that mean he_ didn’t _do a background check?_ “Really? Why?” Ethari dragged a bit of concentration together and settled the glasses on Runaan’s face once more.

The question seemed to catch Runaan off guard. Or perhaps it was just the way Ethari bent over him, with his hands fluttering softly around Runaan’s face. “I… only meant that you’re… very accommodating.”

Ethari leaned down a little more and brushed his fingers around the backs of Runaan’s ears, feeling the bend in the glasses’ temples. Then he molded his hands to the sides of Runaan’s head, tilted his gaze upward, and looked down at him softly. “You thought I’d accommodate just _anyone_ like this?” he murmured. “And you still came back and propped your foot on my chair?”

Runaan stared up at him wordlessly, his eyes open and vulnerable, for a long moment. He didn’t seem to know what to say. So he simply nodded.

Ethari drank in the sight of this intensely hot man being soft and pliable in his hands. _God, what I could do to him. Would he let me?_ The urge to lean down even further and kiss him was nearly irresistible. To press him back in his chair, claim his mouth, to drag him tight against Ethari and wrap his legs around him…

_Dial it back, Casanova. He might not want any of that. He ordered you over here, and you obeyed, remember? And, uh, also he can break you in half, so. Easy does it._

Runaan seemed intent on reading Ethari’s face as he had all these intense thoughts, and Ethari suddenly wondered if inviting Ethari to sit on the table had been some kind of test. _Did I pass, or did I fail? Should I have said no?_

He gulped and slid the glasses from Runaan’s face. Sitting up straight, he focused on gently adjusting the glasses with a small rounding tool. With his attention sufficiently diverted, he dared to ask quietly, “Can I ask why? Why me?”

Runaan’s hand rubbed softly against Ethari’s knee. “You saw me clearly. As I am. And I…” He trailed off.

“Do you intimidate people that much?” Ethari set the tool aside and offered the glasses for a second fit. “There. How’s that feel?”

Runaan leaned into the frames, and Ethari slid them over his ears. Runaan felt at his ears, testing the new fit. “A little tighter, I think. I can still shake them off.”

“You sure?”

Runaan popped an eyebrow at him.

Ethari grinned. “Okay, you’re sure.”

“I am sure. And yes, I think I do intimidate people that much. I don’t mean to. It’s just what this job does to me, to the way I process others, and the world. I can’t afford to see things the way others do. Sometimes… sometimes that’s too big a gap to cross.”

Somehow, hearing Runaan say that from behind his new glasses added a layer of longing to his words, as if he were trying to conceal a secret loneliness behind their lenses. But Ethari, as always, saw him clearly.

“Hey.” He captured Runaan’s chin and tilted it up, and their eyes met. “I’m sorry you feel that way. What you do is important. You shouldn’t have to feel isolated from the rest of us for it.”

Runaan’s eyebrows raised in pleased surprise, and his fingers lifted to rest gently against Ethari’s wrist. “Are you always this kind, or is it because you literally have me in the palm of your hand?” he asked.

Ethari’s gaze dropped to Runaan’s mouth. He smiled softly and met Runaan’s eyes again. “I hope I’m always this kind. But it’s effortless with you.” He smoothed a thumb along Runaan’s jawline and reluctantly pulled away to make some more adjustments to the frames.

As he worked, Ethari felt Runaan’s fingers slide gently around his calves and press warmly against the backs of his knees. “Thank you,” Runaan whispered.

Ethari glanced back down at the raspy tenderness he heard in Runaan’s voice. “Runaan?”

But Runaan seemed a little too overcome to speak for some reason. Finally, he managed a soft chuckle. “I really should’ve come in sooner.”

Ethari laughed too. “You really shouldn’t put these kind of appointments off. It’s easy to lose sight of what’s most important when you can’t see clearly.”

Runaan snapped his gaze up, possibly to see if Ethari was teasing him, but Ethari just smiled softly and flicked his brows upward. “Try these again. See if we got it right yet.”

Runaan settled forward and let Ethari slide the frames on. He tilted his head and immediately smiled. “That’s it. That’s perfect.” Then he glanced out the front windows, and a pleased smile softened his features. “Amazing. I didn’t know what I was missing until now.” His eyes slid back toward Ethari, and his lips twitched into a brief grin.

Ethari’s heart leapt into his chest. _We’re just about done, and he’ll be on his way soon. But I’m not ready for this to end!_ _How do I keep him here in front of me?_ “Have lunch with me?” he blurted. “I’d love to see you out and about in your new glasses.”

Runaan’s eyes went wide, and not with pleasure. “Ah, shit.”

Ethari’s stomach flipped and dropped. “Oh, should I not…? I’m so sorry, I just thought— You were saying—”

Runaan squeezed Ethari’s calves with light urgency. “No, no, I—”

Ethari barely noticed. He’d stepped off the curb on a whim and plunged into a seemingly innocuous puddle of gay panic which had completely sucked him under. “No, sorry, I only meant to—”

“ _Ethari_.” Runaan’s hands demanded his attention with an insistent tug that scooted Ethari an inch closer to him.

Ethari sucked in a breath through his nose and looked down at the hot guy sitting between his knees. Where he’d _insisted_ on sitting, if Ethari recalled. “Y-Yes, Runaan?”

Runaan stood smoothly, right between Ethari’s thighs. He leaned in and rested his hands on the table just past Ethari’s waist, which brought the men nose to nose. “Please forgive me,” Runaan murmured, so closely that Ethari could smell the spearmint on his breath. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I suddenly remembered that I have meetings today.”

“Y-You mentioned that…” Ethari said breathlessly.

“One of them is at lunch,” Runaan continued in that velvety tone. “So I must decline your offer today.”

“It’s, it’s no problem, honest. I understand, you’re busy—” Why did Runaan have to be so nice about letting him down? He could just walk out the door and Ethari would still feel rejected, only it would be over with faster. _I get it, I’m not in your league, just let me go—_

“The other started five minutes ago.”

“So you don’t need to— What?” Ethari blinked, finally catching up to what Runaan was trying to say. He propped his feet on Runaan’s empty chair and leaned back onto his own hands on the table top, seeking just enough distance to be sure of the expression on Runaan’s face. Runaan’s molten smile came into sharp focus, and Ethari felt his breathing shallow out.

“I didn’t expect to get this distracted,” Runaan murmured. His eyes were locked on Ethari’s mouth.

“I… Should I apologize for that or…” Ethari whispered. A very pleasant heat began to make itself insistently known, a bit lower than his heaving chest.

“Definitely not.” Runaan’s voice was liquid velvet brushing against Ethari’s ears. He began to lean down, eyes locked on his target.

Ethari’s heart exploded with dizzying butterflies. His eyes slid shut, and he leaned up toward Runaan, breathlessly anticipating the soft brush of his lips.

The phone at Opeli’s desk chose that moment to ring.

Ethari jerked his eyes open in dismay. The two men looked over just as Opeli darted out of the staff room. “Sorry, guys, I’ll just turn on the auto— _Oh_. Um.”

Runaan and Ethari looked from Opeli to each other as the severity of their compromising position sank in: Ethari leaning back atop the table, feet propped and spread, with Runaan standing between his thighs and leaning in after him. Despite being fully clothed and not actually—not quite, _so very close_ —touching Runaan, Ethari suddenly felt fully exposed and very vulnerable.

In the background, Opeli yanked on the phone’s receiver and slammed it back down. And stayed there, gawping like a frozen goldfish.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Ethari breathed. His cheeks flushed hotter than they’d ever been in his life. He looked up at Runaan, his mouth soft with desperate apology.

And Runaan _smiled_. Softly, protectively. His eyes graced Ethari’s lips for a moment, and Ethari swore he started to lean down again for that achingly sweet kiss, but with Opeli watching awkwardly, Ethari widened his eyes to warn him off. Runaan sighed and straightened as if he’d been doing nothing even remotely personal, and then he reached for his coat. “If I have any more concerns about these frames, I know where to come. Thank you for your expertise today, Ethari. Everything seems clearer now.” He shrugged into his coat and nodded a polite farewell to Opeli as if nothing untoward at all had occurred.

Ethari swiftly hopped off the table and cleared his throat, eager to walk Runaan to the door—something very ordinary and harmless to set Opeli’s mind at ease. “Happy to help. Anytime.”

Runaan turned back toward him with an inquiring look that arched his brow again. _Anytime?_

Ethari dared to grin and raise his own brows. “Anytime,” he repeated.

“Then ask me again later,” Runaan immediately responded.

“Ask you…? To lunch?” Ethari guessed hopefully.

Runaan’s grin was sharp, and the flash of his teeth was bright and crisp like a winter moon. He dropped his chin and offered Ethari a direct look across the top of his new dark blue frames. “Sure. I get hungry.”

Ethari’s chest filled with dazzling sparks. He’d liked those frames best from the start, but he’d never anticipated them being used against him so dramatically. Double vision struck again, with shared bites of food and nibbled fingers and tasty kisses. _God_ , why did he keep seeing himself kissing this guy so insistently, and so often? He’d never had it this bad before, not with anyone. “Until next time, then. And uh, sorry you’re going to be late for your meeting.” Ethari felt his cheeks heat once again.

Runaan cupped Ethari’s elbow to draw his attention more tightly. His fingers slid down to Ethari’s wrist again, and he held on lightly. Ethari’s pulse pounded against his touch, and that seemed to please Runaan more than a little. “Don’t be sorry, Ethari. I’m not.” He squeezed Ethari’s wrist lightly in farewell and slipped free. Those dazzling eyes graced Ethari with one last smiling look, and then the man whirled and was gone, out into the blazing sunlight, striding down the street again. He looked like he could tame the world with a single glance.

But he was wearing a soft smile, not a cruel one. Ethari pressed a hand to his chest and dared to hope that Runaan was going to make the world a better place today, because of that smile.

_Because I put it there. Did I do that? I did that_. A soft smile spread across Ethari’s face, too.

“Halp,” Opeli called.

Ethari glanced toward the counter at the back of the shop, where Opeli was clinging with both hands as if for dear life. Ethari startled out of his soft reverie and headed toward her. “Opeli, what happened?”

“ _You_ happened. You two happened, Ethari. You’re so damn cute! And if I may say, _very_ hot. I can’t stand it, it’s killing me. _Please_ tell me he asked you out!”

“Uh. I asked him, actually. And he said no, but only because he was busy. He asked me to ask him again later.”

Opeli stared up at him, baffled as she tried to track his explanation. “And that was a good thing, right?”

“Yep.” Ethari beamed.

Opeli couldn’t help but grin. “Well, good. You deserve it. But um. Maybe…”

The heat was back in Ethari’s cheeks again, but for a slightly different reason. “I know. I don’t even know what that was, back there on the table. It just sort of… happened. I’ll keep any more personal stuff out of the workplace, don’t worry.”

“I’m not sure how more personal you can get than uh, ‘whatever that was,’” Opeli mimicked with air quotes, “but that’s good to hear. Now go take a walk or something and clear your head. I can tell by that dazed expression of yours that you won’t be any use to anyone today until you get your head on straight. Or, uh, gay.”

Ethari stifled a snort. “My head’s always on gay, Opeli.”

She smacked his arm. “Clearly. Just, you know what, I’m going to make a joke, and you’re going to laugh at it, and then we’ll both move on. Okay?”

“Deal.”

“Just _focus_ today, please.”

Ethari blinked. Opeli’s focus joke was so close to Runaan’s talk of seeing clearly that Ethari’s chest swelled with some kind of cosmic joy, and he actually burst into genuine laughter. “Thanks, Opeli. I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> statewide internet outage: *happens*
> 
> me: *actually gets writing done*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan and Ethari start texting and try a first date.

_Hey, this is Ethari. I don’t want to seem overly starving, but I’m planning to have lunch today. Thought I’d see if you were free._ Ethari held his breath and tapped Send.

The Three Dots of Responding started bouncing nearly immediately, and Ethari’s tummy flipped. Then the dots stopped. Then they started again. Ethari’s tummy flipped a second time. Maybe he was bothering Runaan at work…

Runaan’s response popped up. _Right. Texting. I really should text more. Hi, Ethari. Great to hear from you. Lunch sounds great, but I’m booked today. I usually take potential clients out to eat, and I have a new one. Sorry._

Ethari couldn’t help grinning at the sight of Runaan’s words right there on his phone. He closed his eyes and relived that dizzying moment when Runaan had leaned in and nearly kissed him. If it hadn’t been for that damned phone call… His thumbs tapped out a reply. _You’re busier than I am. How about you let me know when you’re free for lunch and I’ll treat you._

_Excellent plan_. _I’ll check my schedule._ Runaan texted back. Followed momentarily by, _And thank you. I look forward to this elusive lunch date._

“Lunch date”? Ethari’s tummy was in full freefall now. He grabbed his phone with both hands and leaned his forehead against its top edge, grinning like a fool. After twenty seconds of ecstatic squeeing, he managed to respond as if he were a normal person: _Me too._

***

“Traitor.” Ethari slammed his car door shut, zipped his winter coat up all the way, and stalked around the corner of the parking area to the apartment complex’s bike rack. His neglected mountain bike sat there, gleaming a dull green in the winter morning’s fresh sunlight. “Ah, well. It’s good for me, I guess.”

Abandoning his brick of a car, Ethari pedaled toward work. He made a note in his phone to give Gren a call at lunch and see if his cheery neighbor would help his poor car out with a jump after work. Gren was really nice, but his job as a yoga instructor started at the crack of dawn, and he was long gone by the time Ethari crawled out of bed and blinked himself awake with a cup of coffee.

In the bike lane that helpfully bordered the old streets that led downtown, the crisp morning air barely numbed his cheeks at all. The city had planted block-corner planters and long narrow flower beds along the sidewalks with bright clusters of golden daffodils that fooled his brain into thinking it was nearly spring.

He angled his bike off of 5th Street and onto the sidewalk, headed down the north side of Main toward the eyeglass shop, grinning into the early morning sun. Runaan had texted Ethari back after two minutes that day, saying his schedule was a mess and he was really sorry but he’d have to play it by ear from day to day. Ethari had been happy to wait, though. He’d turned up the volume on his phone full blast and secretly given Runaan his own ringtone and text alert so he’d definitely know it was him calling. But not a peep had issued from his pocket since then. Still, his mood was high, and his heart was light. Every day he woke with a lightness in his chest, thinking about Runaan, waiting eagerly for the next time he could see him.

Today was a good day, because Runaan existed.

A shiny black SUV caught his eye across the street at the Posh Wash. A couple of eager guys were detailing the heck out of it with earnest care. Ethari pedaled another fifty feet before he caught sight of a long white ponytail down the back of a tall man in a charcoal pea coat, monitoring the workers’ progress with broad-shouldered poise while multitasking on his phone.

Runaan.

Ethari’s eyes widened, and he felt his whole face light up with a grin. His tummy flipped again—

Because his bike’s front tire smacked into a low retaining wall around one of the city’s sidewalk-side flowerbeds and tumbled him arse over teakettle into a bright patch of daffodils.

The bright winter sky spun overhead, and the ground welcomed the back of Ethari’s coat with the soft snap of daffodil stems that cut his yelp short. Ethari took a second to catch his breath and make sure he hadn’t damaged anything other than the flowers. _Whew, nothing injured. Except maybe my pride. And now I have to lie here until Runaan drives off so he doesn’t see me climbing out of the flowers like a giant drunken bumblebee._

_How long does it take to detail a car anyway—_

Adam Lambert’s lyrics blasted from his pocket at full volume.

_“I wanna see you strut strut strut_

_Come on walk for me”_

It was so loud that Runaan might actually be able to hear his own ringtone from across the street. Ethari frantically clawed at his pocket and fumbled for the phone’s screen, nearly dropping the thing on his face. “Hello?” he blurted breathlessly.

“Are you hurt, or just hoping I didn’t notice you falling into the daffodils?”

Ethari’s cheeks flared hot with embarrassment, and he hoped the earth would just open up and receive his body as a willing sacrifice. “Um. Just a quick gravity check. Everything checks out, nothing to see here.”

Runaan chuckled. “Good to know. Do you need me to rescue you?”

The gentle concern in Runaan’s voice did Very Nice Things to Ethari’s heart rate. He groaned, rolled over, and got onto his knees in the flowers, trying not to crush too many of them. Then he waved sheepishly to Runaan across the street. The strikingly attractive man casually waved back with two fingers. “Please don’t,” Ethari said. “I’m humiliated enough as it is. I feel like I’m five all over again.”

Runaan’s sympathetic hum tickled his ear. “I’d be happy to give you riding lessons.”

_Hhhh_. “Tempting. I haven’t ridden this thing in months. My car died this morning. But maybe I should look into something else, like a motorbike. It would get me to work faster.”

The smile in Runaan’s voice carried clearly in his words, even though Ethari could see it fifty feet away. “Either is fine with me. I’ve got a couple of surfboards, too. And a skateboard. I also have a horse I keep outside of town. A very spirited gray Arabian stallion named Moonshadow. I have lots of things you can ride. Do you have a preference?”

_Oh, I do. Not for the horse, but for the rider_. Ethari bit his lip and only belatedly remembered that Runaan had asked him a question. “Uhh, I’d probably break something if I tried skateboarding.”

“Not on my watch. And, Ethari.”

Ethari’s gaze remained locked on Runaan’s face across the street. “Yeah?”

“You’re still kneeling in the flower bed.”

Ethari sighed. “So I am.”

“Sure you don’t want any help? I can be over there in two seconds.”

The visual of Runaan bounding across four lanes of traffic to help him to his feet in gentlemanly fashion took Ethari’s breath away. “I can’t ask you to jaywalk just for me, Runaan. It wouldn’t do your security firm’s reputation any favors.” He reluctantly got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Thanks for checking on me, though. That means a lot.”

Runaan chuckled. “If you won’t jaywalk for the cute guy who made picking out your first glasses so much fun, then who are you gonna jaywalk for?”

Ethari’s eyes snapped up, and he straightened in surprise. “I… _Cute_?”

Runaan’s tone was amused and patient. “Yes, Ethari. _You cute_.”

His joke sent Ethari into a fit of laughter that got Runaan chuckling, too. “Oh, gosh, Runaan, thank you. That makes me feel a lot better after dumping myself into the flowers. I may be dirt-kneed and late to work, but the hot bodyguard called me cute, so my day is made.”

Runaan’s eyes blazed at him from across the street. The detailing boys had finished their task and were lurking behind him, entirely unsuccessful in drawing his attention away from Ethari. Runaan’s voice dropped into a breathy murmur. “Hot, huh?”

Ethari grinned. “Yes, Runaan. _You hot_.”

Runaan glanced down briefly in a now-familiar gesture that told Ethari he was hiding a blush. When he looked back over, Ethari could hear the smile in his voice again. “Lunch tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Ethari blurted.

“Good. I’ll come by your work around noon and you can take me wherever you want.”

“You bet. I’ll see you then. Have a great day, okay?”

“I will,” Runaan replied, sounding surprised. “You too.”

Ethari nearly crashed into two more flower beds before he made it safely to work.

***

Ethari: _Texting practice? You offered me riding lessons, so it’s only fair._

Runaan: _So I did. I really don’t text anyone. My mom texts more than I do. I could use the help._

Ethari: _I’m at your service, then!_

Runaan _: Did you get your car fixed?_

Ethari _: My neighbor agreed to help me jump it this evening after work. It’ll be right as rain for lunch tomorrow. He’s a sweetheart, but he made me leave the engine running for the length of a whole yoga routine to make sure it held its charge._

Runaan: _Should I be jealous?_

Ethari: _You wanted to do yoga too, huh?_

Runaan: _Not what I meant._

Ethari: _Gren is the kindest human being you will ever meet. And he’s ace as hell. A golden retriever of a guy. But I’m more into greyhounds._

Runaan: _Greyhounds?_

Ethari: _I do not apologize for my type._ _So do you call people for work instead of texting?_

Runaan: _Some. In my line of work, meeting face to face has several advantages too._

Ethari: _Is it illegal to ask what those are?_

Runaan: _Nope._

Ethari: _Can you tell me, then?_

Runaan: _Yep._

Ethari: _Now?_

Runaan: _Nope._

Ethari: _Hmm. Over lunch?_

Runaan: _Maybe._

Ethari: _Sorry, wrong punctuation. I meant it this way:_

Ethari: _Over lunch._

Runaan: _I see how it is._

Ethari: _Good_. 😉

Runaan: _Oh no. Emojis._

Ethari: 😈

Runaan: _Is there a button for those or what?_

Ethari: _OMG RUNAAN PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE KIDDING_

Runaan: 😉

***

After thanking Gren for his help by buying him a fully loaded pizza, and then waiting impatiently for a few more hours just so he didn’t _seem_ impatient, Ethari took a deep breath and hit Send on another text to Runaan. _Just wanted to say good night. Looking forward to lunch tomorrow._

Runaan replied a minute later with, _That’s sweet. Thanks. You have a good night, too, Ethari._ And then he followed it almost immediately with, _Do people really text this much?_

Ethari chuckled helplessly. _omg you’re killing me here. I waited hours before texting you bc I didn’t want to seem pushy_

Runaan’s reply took a couple of minutes this time, and Ethari worried that his iffy punctuation and abbreviations had thrown Runaan off. But then it came in: _So that’s a yes? I wonder what else I’m missing out on._

Ethari blepped in thought for a moment and decided to go for it. He took a pic of his current hobby project, its bits and pieces scattered across the worktable in his kitchen nook, and sent it with the text _Sending pix of whatever you’re doing atm. This is what I’m working on rn. What are you up to?_

He could practically feel Runaan studying the picture, probably zooming in and out on it. _You make little metal trinkets? It’s beautiful. Is that a bunny with lenses for ears?_

Ethari’s grin was huge as he typed his reply. _It is! I recycle single lenses and broken frames from the donation box at work. I’m naming this one Xavier, and he wants you to xav a good night._

Runaan’s reply was swift. _I need to raise my expectations. You keep exceeding them. That pun was pretty cute. Just like your bunny._

Ethari’s cheeks flushed as he read Runaan’s words. He sent Runaan a blush emoji and _You never told me what you’re doing tonight._

_Caught that, did you? Clever._

_And you’re still not telling me._

_You’ll want a picture._

_Then why don’t you send me one?_

_You already think I’m hot._

Ethari made an involuntary sound and leaned forward in his chair. _Okay, you don’t have to tell me—or show me—but I’m suddenly extremely curious._

A couple of minutes went by before Runaan replied, and Ethari’s heart was in his throat the whole time. Runaan’s reply made him swear eagerly under his breath. _I suddenly understand why people take fifty selfies in order to find the perfect one. Give me another minute, I’m really bad at this._

_No pressure_ , Ethari texted back immediately. _If you’re not up for it, you don’t have to send me a pic._

_No, I’m doing it. This learning curve may be sharp, but I’m good with blades._

Ethari’s eyes bugged. _You can’t just say things like that, Runaan. It’s illegally hot._

_It’s okay, Citizen. I have a license._

Ethari burst out laughing in his apartment and sent Runaan a string of rofl emojis.

Then a pic came in, and Ethari tapped it eagerly. A steamy mirror bore a broad clear swipe from a towel, and in the reflection, Ethari could see Runaan’s upper back and one shoulder, and his long white hair mounded into a damp, messy bun on the back of his head. The outer edge of his near shoulder bore a deep blue geometric tattoo. White tendrils clung to the soft skin of his neck, and the side light caught on beads of moisture, setting them alight like tiny pearls.

Ethari’s skin went damp too, after a second. Every inch of him went hot as he realized Runaan was probably wearing a towel at most. And that messy bun… _Holy hell_. His fingers itched to touch it, and his mind scrambled for a sfw reply. As his heart hammered wildly, he tapped out, _Quick rinse or long soak?_

_Hot and cold soak. Just working on some post-workout soreness._

_You push yourself pretty hard, huh?_

_I push everyone pretty hard,_ Runaan responded. _That was a joke_ , he added immediately. _I hope you don’t think I’m pushing you._

Ethari bit his lip. _I’m no badass but I kinda worry about the same thing._

_You’re no badass? Look at your reflexes. You keep putting me to shame. I should take lessons in glasses-catching from you. Do you game?_

_A little_. Ethari vastly preferred puzzle and story-based games to FPS, which he assumed Runaan would favor.

_We should play sometime. I’ve got a pretty good setup at my place._

_That sounds great! You’re gonna kick my ass, though._

_Don’t worry, Ethari. I’ll be as gentle with your ass as you want me to be._ 😉

Ethari stared at that text and blushed harder and harder. A dozen replies flitted through his head, but they all faded into the background of the constant chanting of “oh my god, oh my _god_ ” that cycled through his brain. Double vision struck again, and he saw Runaan easing him down atop soft dark sheets, kissing him in slow motion, weaving his fingers through Ethari’s and pressing their hands into the mattress—

Adam Lambert told him he had another text.

_Sorry, that was inappropriate, wasn’t it? That’s what I get for texting in a towel. I’m usually more buttoned up than this. My fault entirely._

Ethari swore under his breath at yet another steamy visual as he frantically tapped out a reply. _No no it’s fine. It’s really fine. I couldn’t reply right away because I hyperventilated and passed out on the floor._

_What? Are you okay?_

_That was a joke, Runaan. Because you’re hot, remember? You gotta be careful who you tell you’re only wearing a towel. You could kill people like that._

A long pause. Then, _Hmm. Sounds like I need to do more research. I’ll see if this information has any effect on my masseuse. She’ll be here in five._

Oh, the ugly feeling that reared up in Ethari’s chest did _not_ make him happy. Late-night masseuse visits suddenly seemed threatening. He couldn’t manage a reply and sat staring at his phone with a sore ache in his chest.

Runaan sent him another pic. Ethari tapped it unwillingly. It revealed a sassy Asian woman with a scar on her cheek smooching a taller, dark-skinned woman with thick red braids while winking at the camera. A Greek sunset filled the background, full of tiny islands and blue-domed white buildings in a tiny seaside town. _They just got back from their honeymoon,_ Runaan texted _, and I’m betting she’ll just smack me with the nearest towel she can find. Hopefully not the one I’m wearing. On second thought, I’d better just get dressed. Amaya is scary and she can fold me into a pretzel. And I let her, because she says it’s good for me._

A couple of thoughts managed to cohere in Ethari’s mind amid relief that Runaan was merely teasing him again. _You sure you’re okay, or do you always have your lesbian masseuse come over this late?_

_I’ll be fine._

The short answer told Ethari that Runaan was hiding something, but he didn’t feel he knew him well enough to push for more details. _Well, if you’re still a pretzel by the time I see you for lunch tomorrow, should I bring chocolate syrup or mustard?_

A short pause prefaced Runaan’s reply. _I don’t mean to judge your life choices, but who dips pretzels in chocolate syrup?_

Feeling sassy again, Ethari typed back, _You do, once I convert you. You’ll love it._

_Hmmm. You’ll need to be very persuasive._

_Challenge accepted!_

_I look forward to it. Gotta go, Amaya’s here. I’ll see you tomorrow. Hungry already._

_No snacking_ , Ethari replied quickly. _Save your appetite._

_Sweat pants it is, or Amaya will have questions. Until lunch, Ethari._

Ethari stared at Runaan’s last text for fully ten seconds before he got it. His skin flushed hot all over again as he rocketed through a series of fantasies involving Runaan’s damp messy bun, a towel, and plenty of heavy breathing. “God, it physically hurts how hot you are, Runaan,” he muttered. “It’s not fair.” He considered the pleasant ache between his legs and decided to enjoy it. _But if you’re not snacking until tomorrow, then neither am I._

***

Ethari spent the next morning at work in a happy daze. He was scintillatingly charming with every customer and complimented Opeli more than once.

After the second time he mentioned how much he appreciated her desk organization skills and how easy that made it for him to grab a pen when he needed one, she clamped a friendly hand around his wrist atop the counter next to her monitor. “I get it now. You have a date, don’t you?” Ethari’s blushing grin was all the answer she needed. “Tonight?”

“Just lunch.” Ethari glanced at the eyewear-themed clock on the wall. “In fact, he’ll be here any—”

Opeli’s eyes flicked past his shoulder to the front door. “Ooh, speak of the handsome devil,” she interrupted.

Ethari grinned, bit his lip, and spun around.

Runaan strode across the old wooden floor, eyes locked on Ethari from behind his deep blue frames. A vivid jade button-down made his turquoise eyes appear nearly green, and a teal-and-silver patterned silk scarf fluttered near the lapels of his charcoal pea coat. His hands rode in his coat pockets, and a smile lurked in one corner of his mouth.

Ethari couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped his lips. Runaan was downright _gorgeous_. Opeli nudged him gently from behind, and he took a half-step toward Runaan. “Hi.”

Runaan gave him a once-over, and his smile grew. “Hi. Hungry?”

“Starving.” He turned to Opeli. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Take your time, hon,” she sassed. Her voice lilted with implication.

Ethari’s eyes widened, and he quickly looked aside, embarrassed. But Runaan chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll have him back before his curfew.”

Ethari smothered a chuckle as Runaan drew him toward the door with a hand behind his shoulder. Behind them, they could hear Opeli murmur, “Ugh, boring. Muss his hair a little at least, will you? A girl needs her entertainment.”

Runaan stopped abruptly and half-turned back. Ethari sucked in a quiet gasp. But the white-haired man relaxed his shoulders and continued on without a word, leading Ethari out into the bright winter sunshine.

“I’m sorry about her,” Ethari blurted as they strode down the sidewalk. “She didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just…”

Runaan paused again and turned to Ethari with a raised brow. “Just what?”

Ethari’s mouth opened, but he didn’t quite know how to explain Opeli. She was as complicated and buttoned up as Runaan seemed to be, yet in very different ways. Finally, he managed, “Just… happy to see me happy.”

That answer was far softer than the one Runaan seemed to be anticipating. His brows lifted and his bottom lip softened. Then he glanced back toward the eyeglass shop, and something very welcome seemed to occur to him, if the smile on his lips was any indication. He looked up at Ethari, seemingly very satisfied with himself. “So, where are you taking me today? I hope you didn’t have any trouble with the reservations on such short notice.”

“ _Reservations_?” Ethari blurted. He remembered the take-out containers he’d just cleaned out of the back-seat footwell of his car. “Runaan…”

“… _Oh_ …” The security consultant belatedly realized his error.

Ethari tried his best not to feel inadequate over such a simple mistake. “I don’t live in your world, Runaan, wining and dining rich people who need protection with fancy lunches and hired cars and such. I live in mine. With my tinkering projects and my lightning-fast eyeglass-catching reflexes. And I like it here. The food’s great.”

Runaan had the grace to blush and look down. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I probably overdressed, didn’t I?” His fingers plucked lightly at his silk scarf.

Ethari reached out and slowly tugged the scarf from around Runaan’s neck. The other man’s body heat sang against his fingers as he pulled the light fabric through his hands. “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

“Safe from what?” Runaan asked. His voice was full of quiet curiosity.

“Andreas is very generous with his tzatziki.”

“Tzatziki?” Runaan stuttered over the pronunciation.

Ethari grinned and clasped Runaan’s hand, tugging him toward the parking lot around the back side of the block. “I’m taking you out for Greek food, Runaan. And once you’ve tried Andreas’s food, we’ll see how your fancy dinners hold up in comparison.” He came to a stop next to his six-year-old wine-colored Toyota sedan and clicked his fob, unlocking the doors. “In you get.”

Runaan ran his gaze across the car—studying the inside and outside for tactical weak spots and defensibility no doubt—before opening his door and shooting Ethari a grinning shake of his head. “I thought we were having pretzels with chocolate syrup.”

“That’ll be dessert, if you manage to save any room for it.”

“Duly noted.”

Ethari showed Runaan the restaurant’s online menu, but Runaan told Ethari that he’d have whatever Ethari was having. So Ethari placed an order and drove a dozen blocks to Andreas’s restaurant. Runaan lingered a step behind him, hands in his pockets, while Ethari chatted with the front desk girl about the weather and her cute glasses. After a few minutes of being surrounded by the rich, mouthwatering smells of lamb and falafel, Andreas bustled out from the kitchen and handed Ethari two carefully tied take-out sacks. His eyes darted inquiringly to Runaan before returning to Ethari, and the restaurateur offered him a grin and a flick of his eyebrows.

“Enjoy it, gentlemen,” he said by way of farewell.

Ethari set one of the bags in Runaan’s hands and guided him back toward the door. “Come on, Runaan,” he said loudly, “I’m about to show you one of the top three things you can do with your mouth.”

Runaan spluttered, and they exited into the winter sun accompanied by the sound of Andreas’s delighted laughter.

As they headed toward where Ethari had parked, he slowed so Runaan could catch up to him. “Sorry for the rude joke. Andreas is always asking me if I’ll bring in a date someday. I had to show you off a little. I hope you don’t mind.”

Runaan kept his eyes on the heavy package in his hands, and his cheeks were a little pink. “I don’t mind. If this food is really that good, I’m eager to try it.”

“Oho _ho_ ,” Ethari chuckled dramatically, “it really is. In fact, I’m starting to rethink giving it to you. One bite, and you’ll want to date it instead.” He reached for the take-out sack to reclaim it, but Runaan pivoted to face him and hid it behind his back, bringing Ethari nose to nose with him on the broad old sidewalk.

“Oh no you don’t. I get to be the judge of who I fall in love with. Right now, you’re still winning, but this display of jealousy might endanger your chances.”

Ethari forgot all about teasing Runaan and blinked a couple times. “You… I’m… You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Runaan’s reply was a velvet murmur. “Not as much as you think I am.”

Ethari couldn’t breathe. With slow and infinite care, he set his free hand against Runaan’s waist. Then he slid his hand down Runaan’s forearm and reached around his back until his arm snugged Runaan’s waist. His questing fingers found the plastic loops at the top of the take-out sack’s knot and brushed softly against Runaan’s palms as he slowly grasped the sack. His arm leaned more heavily against Runaan’s waist as he took the meal’s weight, and he could feel Runaan tense at the tighter contact. Ethari glanced down, then back up into Runaan’s eyes, so very close to his own.

With their noses nearly brushing tips, Ethari dropped his eyes to Runaan’s lips and whispered, “Hungry?”

Runaan let out a soft noise of agreement and bit his lip.

“Come on, then. I know a place with a great view.”

Ethari cranked the heater, and they shucked their coats into the back seat. Then he drove to the oldest park in town and parked facing a beautiful old pond full of quacking ducks and a pair of swans—one black, one white. The sun glinted off the curving pond’s rippling surface, and moss-covered pillars circled it as if it were an ancient ruin. Bright splashes of golden daffodils and purple crocuses danced in the sunlight around the pillars, while Ethari’s car was nearly encompassed by the draping, bare fingers of a massive willow tree, secluded in a kind of sacred, beautiful pocket of the world.

“Alright then, dig in, pretty boy,” Ethari said as he untied one of the take-out sacks. “I’d hate to deprive you of this glory any longer.” He lifted out a fat pita wrap that was overflowing with thick slabs of fried falafel, gooey knobs of feta cheese, and rivulets of tzatziki, and handed it over. “Eat. I want to see your face when you taste this.”

Runaan took the wrap by the foil that cinched its bottom half together and raised a doubtful eyebrow at Ethari. But just as he raised it to his mouth for a bite, Ethari clasped his wrists.

“Wait. Wait, you need to get comfortable first.”

“What?”

Ethari held up a finger and demonstrated. He scooted his seat all the way back and tilted it backward a few notches. Then he tucked a napkin into his collar, propped one foot on his dash, and leaned back with his own wrap in both hands. “ _This_ is how you enjoy Andreas’s food properly.”

Runaan gulped as his eyes roamed Ethari from head to toe, sprawled back and relaxed, holding that fat wrap near his mouth with an eager, saucy grin.

Ethari looked over at him and tsked. “Here, it’s pretty obvious you’ve never done this before. Let me help you out.” He set his wrap down with a reluctant sigh. Then he flicked open a big napkin with one hand, pressed Runaan back into his seat, and leaned over his lap to release the seat adjustment, dropping Runaan back with a small jolt. Blissfully ignoring Runaan’s small noise of surprise and wide eyes, Ethari gently tucked the napkin in at his neck and spread it over his pretty jade shirt with gentle, thorough fingers, enjoying every bit of contact with his muscled chest.

“Don’t want to get any tzatziki on you, do we?” Ethari murmured. He dared to swipe a finger against the tip of Runaan’s wrap and captured a thick drop of the yogurt sauce before sucking it from his fingertip with a grin. “Your shirt would be ruined.”

Runaan stared up at him and practically vibrated with unspoken tension. He opened his mouth as if to blurt something, but instead he brought the falafel wrap down and tore into it with an urgent growl, stuffing his face until his cheeks bulged.

Ethari twitched at his ferocity. Then he grinned and murmured, “You really _are_ starving.”

The heat in Runaan’s eyes nearly scorched him where he sat, and Ethari absorbed that energy like a solar farm. It settled in his belly with a pleasant heat and a sense of deep satisfaction. “There you go. Eat up.” He brushed a finger under Runaan’s chin. “Can’t have you wasting away now, can we?”

Runaan stuffed another huge bite into his mouth. This time, his hot gaze shifted from Ethari to the wrap in his hands. A deep and wistful moan issued from him, and he nodded reluctantly.

Ethari grinned and settled back into his seat with his own wrap. “See? I _told_ you it was good.” He plunked his foot on the dash above the control panel and took his first big bite.

Runaan plunked his foot right next to Ethari’s and pressed against him. Their falafel wraps disappeared quickly amid soft hums of satisfaction and eagerness, accompanied by gentle foot nudges and rubs.

Ethari opened a box of seasoned curly fries generously doused in feta sprinkles, and Runaan reached in eagerly, dangling a few piping hot fries above his mouth before inhaling them. Ethari tsked and lifted up the accompanying bowl of tzatziki dipping sauce. He dipped a few fries in it before stuffing them into his mouth, and then he eyed Runaan with an instructive glance and a challenging hum.

Runaan humphed, unimpressed, but he copied Ethari’s example, taking a few fries and dragging them through the thick herbed yogurt sauce before consuming them. His pleased hum drew a matching one from Ethari, who chuckled with an I-told-you-so tone.

Ethari reached for more fries, but Runaan caught his wrist and stopped him. With his other hand, he gathered a few fries and dipped them, and then he held them up for Ethari to nibble at.

Ethari sucked in a quiet breath and leaned forward, mouth open. He gently bit at the fries Runaan held, careful not to nip him, until he’d eaten his way up the curly fried food. But Runaan still held the last bit of the fries between his fingertips. Ethari took a deep breath and teased his tongue between Runaan’s fingers, hooking the fries and freeing them from his grasp.

Runaan made a soft sound under his breath and let his fingers relax, and they bent against Ethari’s lips. Ethari received them gently, sucking them clean for a moment. His eyes sought Runaan’s, afraid of being too forward despite all his teasing, and he let Runaan’s fingertips pop free of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he began. He grabbed an extra napkin and wrapped it around Runaan’s wet fingers. “Just trying to—”

“Ethari,” Runaan interrupted firmly. “I need your professional assistance.”

“Hmm? With what?” Ethari blinked and tried to find his way out of the thick romantic haze that had filled his car.

Runaan adjusted his seat back up and turned to face him fully. He set the food into the back seat so nothing rested between their seats, and his expression cooled. “I’ve found a flaw with these glasses.”

Lost, Ethari focused on those lovely inky frames. “A flaw?” _Oh god, I did push too far, I’ve ruined it, haven’t I—_

Runaan took off his new glasses and held them out primly. Ethari received them with delicate care, feeling his heart teeter wildly. He studied the frames with wide eyes and a clenched jaw, hoping to find an actual flaw. “What’s wrong with them?” he murmured.

“I can’t do this when I’m wearing them.”

Ethari looked up just as Runaan surged against him and captured his mouth in a scorching kiss. Ethari fell back into his seat with a gasp of shock, but it was lost in the heavy moan Runaan let out. Runaan followed him down, swinging a long leg across him and settling into his lap while his tongue hungrily trysted with Ethari’s.

Ethari saw double again. But this time, both sets of realities were doing the same thing. He fumbled for the sunglasses holder on the car’s ceiling near his door and managed to slip Runaan’s glasses into it without dropping them. Then both his hands seized Runaan by his shirt front and pulled him down flush atop him. The former bodyguard landed with a pained grunt, and his long white ponytail spilled around them both.

“You okay?” Ethari murmured.

Runaan pressed a hand against his ribs for a moment. “Still working off those workout bruises. I’ll be fine.”

“No, I’ve hurt you—”

“Ethari. _I’ll_ decide if something hurts too much.” Runaan flexed off of Ethari by a bare inch and took his face in his hands. The kiss that he parted Ethari’s lips with was heart-poundingly intense, and Ethari slid his hands into Runaan’s hair, holding him in place.

Runaan rocked his hips against Ethari’s, but he slowly retrieved Ethari’s hands from his hair and pinned them atop the head rest. “Not the hair,” he said, between nibbles along Ethari’s jaw. “Not until you can put it back exactly the way you found it.”

Ethari arched against Runaan, tilting his face and offering his neck to Runaan’s mouth. “ _Nnnngh_. Okay, deal.”

“Mmm. Good boy.” Runaan’s teeth nipped at Ethari’s neck, and his tongue lapped across the scraped skin, easing its sting.

Ethari writhed in pleasurable pain beneath him, mouth open and panting. He laced his fingers through Runaan’s and squeezed tight. “Again,” he pleaded.

Runaan hummed against his neck inquiringly, and Ethari nodded, pressing his skin against Runaan’s lips. They parted, and Ethari felt the wet heat of Runaan’s mouth again, followed by the sharp nip of his even teeth. He clung to Runaan’s hands in desperate euphoria and whimpered, arching up against Runaan’s lithe body. Runaan bit harder, as if telling him to hold still, but Ethari just _couldn’t_.

“Runaan,” he grated. His voice was thick and heavy, and it wasn’t the only part of him to be so. He gazed up into Runaan’s dazzling eyes and drank in his flushed cheeks and parted lips. “If you want to—”

“If you want me—” Runaan started to say.

The sharp rap on the window glass interrupted them both.

Even pinned as he was under Runaan’s weight, Ethari jumped.

Runaan did not. He sat up and turned sharply, offering the figure outside the car a steely glare that could’ve cut him in two.

“Sorry, Boss, this couldn’t wait. Your new client has fresh intel,” came a muffled voice. “You weren’t answering your phone, so we pinged you.”

Runaan froze for a moment. His gaze dropped to Ethari, who stared up at him in embarrassment and dismay.

“God, I’m sorry—” Ethari began.

Runaan shushed him with a single finger against his lips, clearly still thinking quickly. Then that finger traced his bottom lip, and a hint of a smile returned to Runaan’s lips for a moment.

But even as Ethari’s heart surged, the moment passed, and Runaan shifted back into work mode right there on his lap. Ethari watched that glorious turquoise heat die in his eyes, replaced with cool focus. His entire body language changed as he drew back from Ethari in every way.

Ethari caught sight of that black SUV in his side mirror. “You have to go,” he breathed.

Runaan rested a soft hand over Ethari’s madly thrumming heart. “I’m sorry.” He whisked his dark blue frames from Ethari’s sunglasses holder and slipped them on with one hand while he twitched open the driver’s side door with the other. In one graceful motion, he stepped out into the shifting shade of the bare-limbed willow tree. Runaan’s subordinate, sturdy-shouldered with a shock of bright pale hair and a single black earring gauge, tugged open Ethari’s rear driver’s-side door and took out Runaan’s pea coat. He held it up, and Runaan slipped it back on.

“Car’s waiting, Boss.”

Ethari adjusted his seat upright again, feeling forgotten already. But Runaan said, “One moment.”

“Sure.” The man stepped back to the black SUV and waited to pull open its door for Runaan.

Runaan squatted down beside Ethari’s open door and pulled the folded scarf from his coat pocket. “Keep this for me?” he asked. He wrapped the cool silk around Ethari’s bitten neck and soothed his fingers across the mark he’d made. Ethari clung to Runaan’s open gaze for a long moment before nodding. Runaan caught his free hand and pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you for lunch.”

Ethari grinned wistfully. “It was my pleasure.”

“Mine too,” Runaan said quickly. “You were right. Andreas makes great food. But somehow I’m as hungry as ever. Why don’t we try again at my place?”

“Dinner?”

Runaan lowered his chin and offered Ethari a sassy smile. “I was hoping for breakfast.”

Ethari’s mouth went dry. “I, uh… _hhhhhh,_ ” he managed through a dazzled smile. “I’m free whenever you are.”

Runaan ran his thumb across Ethari’s knuckles. “I’ll call you, then. I’m sorry again, about this.” His eyes roamed Ethari’s heaving chest and flushed cheeks.

“You can make it up to me later.”

“I definitely will.”

“And I’m still making you try those dipped pretzels.”

“I’m counting on it.” Runaan cupped Ethari’s cheek and pulled him down for a warm, urgent kiss. “I really have to go,” he murmured against Ethari’s lips. “I’m sorry.” He stood and turned to go, but then he turned back. “Just one more thing.” Runaan reached out with one hand and tousled Ethari’s hair thoroughly. “As requested.”

“Wha—? Oh!” Ethari chuckled warmly as he remembered Opeli’s request. She’d be delighted that Runaan had actually taken it seriously. “I look forward to those hairstyling lessons,” he added.

Runaan smiled down at him with a secretive grin. “You’re not the only one.” He turned and strode to the SUV, but as Ethari watched him go, swaying ponytail and all, Runaan waggled his fingers behind his back in a soft farewell.

As his subordinate opened the SUV door for Runaan, he asked, “You gonna, uh, need a minute when we get there, Boss?”

Runaan glanced back at Ethari, his cool focus firmly in place. “I’ll be fine.”

_There’s that short answer again. He’s not as fine as he lets on._

As Runaan’s SUV drove off, Ethari collapsed into his seat and gasped for air. He dragged his hands across his face and groaned helplessly, swearing under his breath. Then his fingers dropped to the soft gift Runaan had given him. The delicate silk bore Runaan’s subtle scent, and it rose to Ethari’s nose as his own body heat warmed the scarf. “Holy _shit_ , this man is going to kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies if you can never look at a falafel wrap the same way again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeking a little deeper into Runaan's and Ethari's lives!

Runaan shuffled down the hall with a hand pressed to his left ribs. His session with Amaya had gone as well as she’d expected, but Runaan wasn’t happy with it.

He was never happy these days. The pain never really stopped, and his recovery was agonizingly slow compared to his sunny expectations.

_I don’t want to be like this. Not now, and definitely not forever. Why can’t I just be my old self again? I was perfect. Didn’t realize it. Didn’t know I’d lose it._

_I hate this._

He let out a measured sigh as he turned to pass through his big kitchen on the way to his room. He’d had this thought a thousand times before. Tonight was nothing new.

The part where he suddenly worried that Ethari would reject him once he learned the truth, though… that was new. And painful. If he dared to look a little deeper into his urgent attraction to Ethari, he’d see a whole host of coping mechanisms and unhealed hurts, spread over the past few years. Ethari was no quick fix, though. And Runaan needed far more than a bandaid. It really wasn’t fair to—

The sound of a blade against wood drew his ear, and he looked up, desperate to avoid that death spiral of feelings.

Janai stood in the kitchen in a sports bra, crop top, and yoga pants, with her thick red braids pulled back and tied into a makeshift knot. Her cutting board lay surrounded by a dozen vegetables and three kinds of meat. Runaan paused and his stomach cramped, undecided between hunger and discomfort after Amaya’s not-so-tender attentions.

Janai looked up. “ _Bonsoir_ , Runaan. Is it okay that I’m here? I know you said we could use your kitchen anytime, but…”

“Of course, help yourself.” He wandered closer and studied Janai’s finely sliced ingredients. “Stir fry?” he guessed.

“ _Oui_. You make my wife hungry, the way she works you over. I need to keep her strength up.” Janai gave him a big, serious wink.

Runaan smiled self-consciously. “She does good work. I’m happy to have you both here on the property with me. _Mi_ kitchen _es su_ kitchen.”

Janai tsked. “You know that’s Spanish, right? I’m French.”

Runaan sketched a light bow slowly, with care for his aching side. “ _Oui, madame_.”

Janai smacked his arm lightly with a kitchen towel. “Don’t ‘ _madame’_ me. I’ve only been married a month. I’m not ready.”

Runaan took the strike without trying to block. “Yes, ma’am.”

She sent him a mock glare. “That is not better.” She returned to chopping bok choi and asked, “So how was the session tonight?”

“It was fine.”

Janai’s blade stopped, and her bright brown eyes focused on Runaan with new intensity. She feinted toward his left side, and he stepped back protectively, raising a warding hand to catch hers.

She pulled her punch the moment he captured her wrist, and he let her go. She folded her arms. “You don’t parry like you’re fine. How are you, really?”

Runaan angled away from her question and opened his stainless steel fridge. He retrieved a chilled bottle of vodka and pressed it against his side. “You worry too much.”

“Where did you get that?” she demanded. “You know you’re not advised to—”

Runaan’s chuckle was dark. “I’m not going to drink any of it. It is medicinal, though. Look, I feel better already.”

Janai appeared at his side, almost as tall as he was and full of tense grace and power, as befitted her profession as a martial arts instructor. Her expression was a mix of disappointment, determination, and concern. “You need to give yourself more time to recover, Runaan. You can’t rush proper healing.”

“Yes, I can. That’s what Amaya is for. And besides,” he added to himself, “I’m really motivated.”

Janai crossed her arms doubtfully and waited for Runaan to elaborate, but he wasn’t ready to tell her about his shiny new feelings for Ethari, the cute guy from the eyeglass shop who had great taste in food, an adorably expressive face, and currently, better reflexes than Runaan himself. _He’s sweet and adorable. And maybe I’m a little jealous of his speed._

His gaze traced his friend’s fit shape, and he pouted at the sight of her sculpted abs between her crop top and her yoga pants. “I used to have nice abs too,” he bemoaned.

“ _Mon dieu_ , Runaan, you’re not dead. You’re still one big muscle, see?” She reached out slowly, so as not to startle him, and prodded his abdomen.

He flexed against her finger and grunted, pushing her hand away. “I used to be so much better than this.”

“And you will be better. In time.”

“I’m a pudding cup, Janai.”

Her brows lowered, and a sassy grin came over her face. “Can a pudding cup do this?” she challenged. She stepped in with a half-speed punch aimed at Runaan’s center.

He parried low using the vodka bottle and pivoted closer with an elbow feint to the back of her head, followed by a second one to the face. Janai made movie-worthy sounds as if she was actually being hit. He held her off balance and caught the back of her knee with his kneecap, ready to dump her onto the floor, and then he stopped. They both knew he’d taken the upper hand.

He let her go, and she joshed his shoulder gently. “See? You still got it. You’ll be okay. You just need patience.”

Runaan coughed in pain and pressed a hand to his side. “Famous last words.”

Janai tsked, stole the vodka, and put it back in the fridge. Then she pulled a bag of frozen peas from the freezer section, held it up, and eyed him.

Runaan wilted at the sight of it. “Do we have to do this again?”

“I can cook them and make you eat them instead.”

His shoulders slumped.

Janai pointed imperiously to the nearest couch in the family room. Runaan trudged over and lay carefully on his right side, propping his head on his hand. Janai crouched beside him and settled the frozen peas in the usual spot, low on his ribs.

“That okay?”

He nodded mutely. She returned to the kitchen to fetch the second part of their routine, and he lay still—and grumpy—listening to the microwave heating the barley sleeve. After a minute or so, Janai came back out and sat on the floor in front of him. Her mood had shifted to something more serious.

“Just say it,” Runaan said.

Janai looked down and took a deep breath. Then she met his eyes steadily. “Do you ever tell her how much it hurts afterward?”

“No. Do you?”

“ _Non_. It’s not my place. But, Runaan…” Janai broke off as she swapped the icy bag for the heated barley, draping its hot weight across his ribs.

He stifled a grunt at the sudden shift in temperature. The heat was welcome for a short while, but then it ended up aggravating his already frayed nerves. Janai was good with knowing how long to wait before reapplying the frozen peas, though. “What?” he said through a sigh.

“You are a stubborn man, and you’re hurting more people than just yourself by not letting Amaya know how much you’re still struggling with this.”

“I’m not hurting anyone, Janai. I just need to push through this. I can get there. I _need_ to get there. I can’t live like this.”

“Runaan…” Janai’s voice dropped to a murmur, and her hand settled on his forearm as it propped his head. “You _are_ living like this. It’s been three years now, and seven surgeries. Yes, you’re getting better. Yes, you may get all of your mobility back one day. And I hope that you do. Truly. But getting angry with yourself for not rebounding like an eighteen-year-old, pretending you _aren’t_ in pain just because you wish you’d healed already? These are not good things. Some things, we cannot wish away. We can only accept.” She switched out the heated barley sleeve for the frozen peas again just as Runaan was hitting true discomfort from the heat.

Runaan felt his teeth grinding in frustration. He was nowhere ready to _accept_ yet. And he didn’t want to be. He’d always willed his way through life. He just needed to push harder than ever with this stubborn weakness, and he’d be alright again.

“Do you want the heat again, or are you ready for me to take down your hair?”

“Let me try first,” Runaan said quietly. That was also part of their routine, since the last surgery. She’d offer, and he’d see if he could even reach his own hair first. He hadn’t been able to for weeks. “I got a messy bun done on my own this week, remember?” He didn’t tell her it was messy because he’d done it one-handed. How Ethari had found it appealing, he had no idea. _Probably my aggressive selfie cropping._

“Ah, progress! Okay, show me what you got, pretty boy.”

Runaan sat up and set the frozen peas aside. He straightened, closed his eyes to focus, and lifted his hands. His right hand eased back to his ponytail easily enough. But his left slowed with a lurch at shoulder height. It inched toward his ear, and his breathing shallowed out. His fingers began to tremble.

Janai took his hand and felt his weak resistance as he attempted to keep trying. “Rough day?” she murmured.

Runaan felt a tiny smile cross his lips, and he looked aside. “I may have used a bit of my energy up at lunch today.”

Her brows rose, and she made a surprised sound. “Did your client meeting get rowdy?”

Runaan’s cheeks heated. “No. Something else, uh, came up. I handled it.”

Janai squinted at him in baffled disbelief, but again, he didn’t elaborate. “Let me undo your hair, then, Captain America.” She stood and circled him on the couch.

“ _Rude_. I’m British.”

Janai snorted. “I said what I said. Because I’m French. Now hold still.” She freed his long hair from its heavy metal ornament and tugged the weaves of braid loose from the base of his neck. “There you are. You want a braid for bed or a bun for a soak?”

“Braid. I’d better catch up on some sleep.” Runaan sat and closed his eyes, feeling the gentle pulls and tugs of Janai making quick work of his long hair. A sharp pang stabbed his chest as he remembered what he’d said to Ethari at lunchtime in the heat of a passionate moment. “ _Not the hair. Not until you can put it back exactly the way you found it.”_

_Because I can’t do it myself. I need help to do my own hair._

The pang soured. _What am I doing with him? I don’t want him to play nursemaid for me. I just want— I want—_

Years of pain and frustration overflowed, and Runaan squeezed his eyes shut against those old, familiar feelings of anger, helplessness, and resentment. The second that Janai tied off his braid, he thanked her brusquely and stalked away.

_I don’t deserve Ethari. I’m not who he thinks I am. I should let him go._

But Runaan knew he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

And that made everything worse.

***

Saturday morning found Ethari sleeping in. He curled his toes and arched his back off the mattress in a good stretch. And then the soft burn of Runaan’s love bite on his neck roused itself, too. Ethari’s fingers traced it gently, feeling the hot, raised skin. He closed his eyes and relived Runaan’s passionate attack, pinning him into his own seat, trapping his hands, straddling him easily… _Mmmfff. Can’t believe that actually happened._

He reached for his phone. _Good morning. Just woke up, thinking about you_. Still half-asleep, he tapped Send while wearing a goofy grin.

Runaan’s reply was prompt. _Lazy. Why are you still in bed at this hour? I’ve been up since 5._

Ethari groaned and rolled onto his back. _It’s the weekend, Runaan, you can relax._ _Do you really have to rub your perfection in my face this early in the morning?_

_It’s almost 9._

Ethari smacked the all caps button and typed _LET ME COMPLIMENT YOU, DAMMIT._

The Three Dots of Responding bounced, then paused, then bounced, then paused again. Ethari was not prepared for Runaan’s reply when it popped in. _I can think of better things to rub in your face than my perfection. Too bad you’re not here. I’d be happy to demonstrate._

Ethari choked and dropped his phone on his face. “Ow, fuck,” he chuckled, wincing. Then he took a pic of himself wearing an overly scandalized face and sent it before he could talk himself out of it, adding, _You text your mom with those thumbs?_

Runaan didn’t reply for a couple of minutes. Ethari snuggled back into his pillow and dozed, not ready to get up and face the day yet.

Adam Lambert told him he had a new text. Several, in fact, in quick succession.

_Ethari_

_Holy god_

_You can’t just_

_SEND me_

_things like this_

_without_

_consequences_

Ethari’s eyes widened, and he scrolled back up to the pic he’d sent. He frowned, confused, trying to figure out what Runaan’s objection could possibly be. Then another text came in.

It was a picture. One look at it slammed heat into Ethari’s cheeks so fast it took his breath away. He suddenly realized what Runaan had seen in the pic Ethari had sent him.

He’d _meant_ to send Runaan a dramatic gasp. But Runaan had only seen Ethari with his mouth open, looking vulnerable, on his back, lying sprawled in his bed.

Runaan’s own pic was framed accordingly.

Ethari felt his spine—and other things—tingle with excitement as he held the phone above his face for proper perspective. Runaan looked down at him from the pic, flustered and intense, cheeks pink, mouth lax, pupils dilated, with tendrils of loose white hair falling around his face. He’d set his phone down as if it lay exactly where Ethari lay in his own bed, and leaned over it.

The implication was delicious. Ethari giggled and swore. _Okay, I’m definitely up now,_ he texted. _In all the ways._

 _I’d have you over here in a heartbeat if I weren’t slammed all day_ , Runaan replied back. _Jonesing for that breakfast we discussed._

_Same. You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to seeing your place. It’s really hungry over here. You don’t get weekends with your job, huh?_

_Nope._

_Well, I’m happy to pretend for a few minutes that you do._

_God, Ethari. You’re cute as hell. But when you say such soft things to me, I… I don’t even know how to describe it. But I really like how it makes me feel._

Warm fuzziness blossomed in the middle of Ethari’s erotic fantasies, and he stared up at his phone with a soft, amazed expression. _Bodyguard with a heart of gold. Is no one soft with you, Runaan?_

_Not like you are._

Ethari’s protective instincts ramped up into overdrive. He physically ached with the need to hold Runaan and tell him everything was going to be okay. Because somehow, Ethari got the distinct impression that Runaan didn’t think it would be. He couldn’t explain it. But he trusted his gut.

He slammed the call button on Runaan’s contact page.

“Ethari?” Runaan’s voice was smooth but guarded.

“Tell me if you’re okay.”

“What?”

“I need to hear you say it. Please. I just… got worried. I know it doesn’t make any sense—”

“Ethari, I’m fine.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“…Do I?”

“Tell me, is everything okay? Can I help somehow, do you need anything?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“Let me be nice to you.”

“I—”

“This is what my soft looks like, Runaan. You say I’m cute as hell. But you also got a little emotional when I said you shouldn’t have to feel isolated for the job you do. When I held your face in my hands and when I asked you to lunch. You jumped at the chance to make me ask you a second time. But _you_ didn’t ask _me_ to lunch. Did that even occur to you? Do you know it’s okay for you to reach out to other people? Because it is. It’s okay. I want you to.”

“I… Ethari, I’m not sure I’m…”

Ethari rolled up onto one elbow and took a deep breath. “Listen to me, hon. Your feelings are just as valid as mine. And I want you to practice showing them to me, okay? I want to see them. I love seeing how you feel.” He chuckled breathlessly. “And I’m not just talking about suggestive pics, either, because just like everything else, you only sent that in response to something _I_ did. You’re following my lead, Runaan. And that’s okay. I’m happy to lead you. But please don’t think I want you to stay there in my emotional shadow. I’ll never get to know you if all you ever do is parrot me. And—this is the most important bit—I _really want_ to get to know you. As much as you’ll let me. However long it takes.”

Runaan got so quiet that Ethari could hear him gulp on the other end of the line. Then, in a rushed whisper, “I gotta go.”

Ethari flopped onto his pillow in a thick bubble of disappointment. He really thought the universe was going to give him an angel choir and an emotional breakthrough there. Instead, Runaan had shut him out.

 _It’s okay, though. It’s okay. He didn’t say No. He just said he had to go. Hang in there, Ethari,_ he reassured himself.

He was tugging his favorite weekend shirt over his head—Entrapta flexing one of her long purple ponytails like Rosie the Riveter and saying “We can do it!”—when Adam Lambert started singing about strutting again. He fumbled his way through the neck hole and grabbed his phone.

Runaan had texted him with _I didn’t mean to cut you off like that. I was actually in a meeting. Probably should’ve mentioned that, but you caught me by surprise. Again. I’m just not prepared for how kind and gentle and good you are. I will follow your lead, if that’s okay, so I can learn how this goes. But I hope I can get a chance to walk side by side with you, too. Maybe hold hands or something? If that’s not too gay._ 😉

Ethari left his shirt bunched over his pecs, clasped his phone to his heart, and fell back onto his mattress in ecstatic freefall. He reread Runaan’s text several times, basking in its softness. And then he frowned.

_Babe. Darling. Sweet cheeks. Pumpkin. I’m on the floor with your sweet words. (Okay I’m actually back on the bed, I fell over) But can we please go back to the part where you took that pic of yourself looking all hot and bothered WHILE YOU WERE IN A MEETING? I cannot with you, I’m dead._

Runaan’s reply was prompt. _I’m very stealthy._

Ethari gaped at it. _You can’t possibly be THAT stealthy._

_Yes I can. Also someone else was presenting at the time. Did you really fall back on the bed because I made you soft, or are you just saying that?_

Ethari held his phone overhead and smiled winningly for a pic as proof that Runaan had, in fact, toppled him onto his bed without even being in the room. Only after he sent it to Runaan did he realize that the bottom of the pic clearly showed his shirt rumpled up, exposing the lower curve of his pecs as if he’d meant to show off his chest like some flirty grindrboy. “Oh my _god_ , how do I keep doing this? _Shit_.” His thumbs sped over the keyboard in a panic. _WAIT DON’T CLICK THAT IN YOUR MEETING GOD I’M SORRY I’M AN IDIOT SHIT SHIT_

Runaan didn’t reply for a minute, and Ethari writhed in an agony of embarrassment until his text popped up. _Meeting’s over now, don’t worry. I’m really not good with emojis, though. Been trying to find a nosebleed one. Is that a thing?_

Ethari melted into a puddle of relief and squeezed his phone with both hands. _I’m so sorry. My phone’s trying really hard to flirt with you on my behalf this morning._

_You should hire it out, because it’s working. Not sure how I’m going to make it until I can invite you over. I’m really hungry._

_Are you saying I’m a snack?_

_You’re a full course meal. That I don’t know when I’ll get to enjoy. I’d might die of hunger before then. Worth it, though._

_Wait, you really haven’t been snacking?_

_You said not to. I can wait._

_Runaan, that was a joke. I don’t get to say when you snack._

_It wouldn’t bother you?_

_I don’t get a say,_ Ethari repeated.

 _Okay_.

Several minutes passed as Ethari waited breathlessly for more information, but none was forthcoming.

_Runaan._

_Psst, Runaan._

_Are you uhhhh_

_“snacking”_

_right now?_

Runaan’s reply was swift _. Yes._

_WH A T are you serious are you sure you should be doing that at work_

_I can multitask._

_WITH WHAT_

_It’s top secret._ 😉

Cheeks blazing, Ethari needed a moment to gather his wits. _Wait, how are you even typing?_

_Voice recognition._

Ethari squinted, and his thumbs flew _. No you’re not. That doesn’t work for emojis!_

_How do you know that?_

Ethari swore aloud in his bedroom. _I didn’t, but you just confirmed you’re bullshitting me. You’re such a tease, omg. I nearly had a heart attack! Definitely had a nosebleed._

Runaan’s reply was edged with soft toppiness. _Too good to pass up. I enjoy watching you panic. It’s adorable._

Ethari bit his lip and grinned _. I’m just glad you can’t actually see me. I’m a whole mess, I hope you’re happy._

_Definitely not spying on you from your bedside lamp._

Ethari twitched and stared at his lamp. _Hey, not cool, Security Guy._

Runaan’s reply was prompt. _Aha, so you DO have a lamp._

_Everyone has a bedside lamp._

_Low-hanging fruit, I know._

_Bring that low hanging fruit any closer and I’ll pin you down and eat it. Payback for your nibbles yesterday._

_That only seems fair._

Ethari’s eyes widened at Runaan’s sudden acquiescence, and his double vision smacked him with the image of Runaan writhing as eagerly under his mouth as he had under Runaan’s.

Then another text from Runaan: _But don’t get any juice in my hair._

Ethari’s vision accordingly adjusted his attentions elsewhere on Runaan’s person, and he yelped and threw his phone across the room. “Aah, I can’t! He’s too hot, I can’t!”

Then he scrambled on all fours across the room, swearing repeatedly under his breath, and dug his phone out from behind the clothes hamper, where it had clattered to a stop. “Yes I can. I can and I will.” He took a few steadying breaths and texted, _I’ll take very good care of your hair, I promise. It’s one of my favorite things about you._

Runaan didn’t reply for several seconds, and when he did, the conversation turned. _That means a lot, actually. If I were more sensible, I’d have cut it by now._

Ethari gasped. _What? Why? No, don’t cut it!_

_Not important. I definitely won’t cut it, though. I don’t have nearly enough hair ornaments yet._

Ethari recalled the Viking dagger ornament Runaan had worn when they first met, and sudden inspiration struck. _Hey, I’m thinking of visiting my dad today, unless there’s a chance you’ll be free for breakfast tomorrow morning?_

 _Don’t let me get in the way of family time,_ Runaan responded promptly. _I’m booked up all weekend anyway. Prep stage. Not sure how long it’ll last, but you’ll be the first to know when I have a break in my schedule._

Ethari bit his lip. _It’s okay if you’re too busy. I’m not as important as your job._

_No offense, Ethari, but that’s my call, not yours._

_It’s kinda hot when you talk like that._

_Yeah?_

Ethari grinned softly at his phone screen. _Yeah._

_Just doing my job, Citizen. Enjoy your day with your dad. I’ll catch you later._

_I will. Thanks. And Runaan._

_Hm?_

_Please don’t snack at work! I’m not worth getting in trouble over._

_Says the man who got caught sitting on his desk with a customer between his thighs._

Ethari’s cheeks immediately overheated, and he thumped his head against the wall behind him as he relived the delicious memory of Runaan leaning in over him for that first missed kiss. _OHMYGOD DO NOT REMIND ME. Seriously, how did we even let that happen. ANYWAY. Take it from me, because of that, I don’t want you to get in any trouble on my behalf. Use better judgment at work than I did, okay?_

_Maybe I like your terrible judgment._

_Runaan! haslfhashdfsiuhs_

😈 _No promises._

***

Ethari let himself into his parents’ place on the outskirts of town and found his mom working away on her computer. “Hey, Mom,” he greeted her, giving her a hug from behind and a kiss on her cheek.

“Ethari! How are you, kiddo?”

Ethari sighed at the childlike term. He’d never grow up in his mom’s eyes, it seemed, even if he was 6’3”. “I’m good, Mom. Is dad out in the shop?”

“As always. Tell him dinner’s at seven.”

“You got it.”

Ethari made it three steps before his mom called, “Whose scarf is that?”

He fingered the delicate silk of Runaan’s scarf, which he’d wrapped around his neck to hide Runaan’s mark on his skin. “What, can’t a guy get himself a nice scarf?”

“The _scarf_ smells great. _You_ smell like you’re faking amnesia so you don’t have to clean your kitchen.”

 _Ouch_! “Wow. Edits not going well, huh?”

A grumpy sigh. “No, they are not. Supper’s at seven, your scarf friend smells nice, and, Ethari?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Clean your kitchen.”

Ethari grinned and shook his head. “Yeah, Mom.”

Ethari headed out to his dad’s workshop. In his pocket, he clutched a small sketchbook of ideas pressed in nervous fingers. He opened the door and felt a childhood’s worth of workshop memories smack him in the face. He grinned and breathed deeply. The smell of hot metal would always welcome him home.

“Dad,” he called, over the low roar of metallic grinding from somewhere in the depths of the carefully aligned machinery.

The grinding stopped. “Ethari? That you?”

“No, Dad, it’s a total stranger with my exact voice, who wants you to know that Mom says supper is at seven.”

A pause. Ethari’s dad, Padam, poked his head around a worktable backstop with a concerned look. “That’s hours from now. Why’s she thinking about supper already?”

Ethari shucked his coat and stuffed his notebook in his jeans pocket. He headed deeper into the well-lit workspace and gave his shorter dad a greeting hug. “Two reasons, probably. She’s busy working and doesn’t want to stop to call you out here, and I showed up and she knows how we get.”

Padam snorted. “She’s got us there, Son. I think we stayed up all night the last time you were out here, making… what did we make?”

“A recreation of her favorite doily in metal filigree. I can’t believe she wasn’t more impressed. That took _skill_.” Ethari tsked.

“Oh, I took care of that. She just didn’t like how it clashed with the décor in the kitchen nook. I spray-painted it cream and now she loves it.”

Ethari reached forward on instinct, as if he could stop such an abomination from happening. “You— You _spray-painted_ that masterpiece? Dad!”

But Padam shrugged and grinned. “The things we do for love, eh?”

Ethari looked away with a smile and tugged lightly on Runaan’s scarf.

“Is there something you came out to tell me, Son?” Padam asked softly.

 _“Came out,” ha. I came out to you a long time ago._ Ethari pulled out his notebook and curled it into a little tube in his hands, squeezing it nervously. “Yeah, kind of. I, uh. Dad, I met someone.” He peeked over at his dad from behind his dark lashes.

Padam’s face lit up, and he gave Ethari’s shoulder a light punch. “Ah ha, _good_! Good! Is he cute?”

“Dad—”

“No, no,” Padam corrected himself, “is he _nice_? That’s more important. Is he a good man?”

Ethari’s cheeks warmed happily. “ _I_ think so. But I only met him a couple of weeks ago, and I’m just getting to know him, and he’s kind of the buttoned-up type.”

Padam’s smile was broad and reminiscent. “You always did have a weakness for the proper ones, didn’t you?”

“I do not apologize for my obsession with Victorian men in historical dramas. That look is a whole mood, Dad.”

“Mr. Darcy is lucky you weren’t around back then, huh?”

Ethari snorted. “That’s just Mom talking. Right now I need _your_ help.”

“Oh, really? With what?” Padam’s gaze fixed on the notebook Ethari was turning into a makeshift tube.

“I… I want to make him something. I thought I’d run my ideas by you first, though.”

A smile lurked in the corner of Padam’s mouth as he folded his arms. “Didn’t I raise you to tell the truth, Ethari? You mean you shamelessly want to use _my_ shop to make a present for _your_ crush.”

Ethari’s grin was indeed shameless. “Yeah, that too.”

Padam clapped his hands once and held them out for the notebook. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

Ethari handed over the poor abused notebook, and father and son ambled deeper into the workshop. Padam opened the notebook and examined the first couple of sketches as Ethari said, “So his name is Runaan, and his hair is so long he can sit on it, and he keeps it in this perfect ponytail—”

Padam interrupted him with a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. “Oh, my poor boy, you never stood a chance, did you.”

“No, that’s not even— You know what, yeah, no, I didn’t.”

***

Adam Lambert started singing over the grinding hum of metal being polished. Ethari stepped back and turned off the machine with such alacrity that his dad reached out to rescue their project from his hands.

“You spend hours making this and then you just about drop it for your phone? It must be him, huh?” Padam teased. “Catchy tune.”

Ethari blushed and frantically waved his dad off as he answered, “Hey, Runaan, hi.”

Runaan’s voice caressed his ear in the middle of his dad’s workshop. “Hey. Just calling to say good night. I thought I’d initiate this time and see how it went.”

Ethari’s eyes widened, and his chest swelled. But then he processed exactly why Runaan was calling _now_. “Oh, gosh, is it that time already?” he blurted.

“It’s after eleven. Pretty late for me, but I got a lot done today. How was your visit with your dad?”

“I’m, uh, still having it.” Ethari glanced at his dad, who gave him a cheesy thumbs-up.

“Oh. Does he know… about me?”

“Yeah, you came up pretty early on. No reason.” Ethari fiddled with the edge of Runaan’s scarf, which he’d tucked up thoroughly to keep it out of the way of machinery.

A pause. Ethari imagined Runaan looking down and smiling, trying to hide a blush that Ethari couldn’t even see.

“Just the good things, I hope,” Runaan said softly.

Padam spoke loudly before Ethari could reply. “Ask him how he feels about Victorian waistcoats.”

“ _Dad_! Oh my god.”

“Sword canes?” Padam persisted.

“Wait, what?” Runaan said quickly.

Ethari made a pleading face. “Yeah, Dad, he likes sword canes, can I _please_ have a minute here?”

“Okay, Son. But just remember: you’ll never be too old for me to dad you.”

“I like him,” Runaan said in Ethari’s ear.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Ethari responded, while shooting his dad a mock glower.

“He _is_ funny. I don’t have any Victorian waistcoats in my closet, but I’ve already confessed to owning a lot of shirts. And for what it’s worth, Amaya’s nickname for me is R-dapper.”

“It’s what?”

“She’s Deaf, if I didn’t mention. And that’s the name she gave me. My first initial, and _dapper_. I like it more than a little bit.”

“Wow, that’s really—”

“She also calls me Tiny Little Bitch when I don’t want to cooperate during sessions,” Runaan added with a big yawn, “but that nickname is less cool.”

Ethari blinked and stifled a chuckle. “You’re worn out, aren’t you? You should go to sleep.”

“You’re probably right. Text me in the morning?” A warm thread of anticipation in Runaan’s voice forcefully reminded Ethari of the pictures he’d sent him earlier that day, and his cheeks flushed.

“I… we’ll see.”

“I _hope_ we’ll see,” Runaan said promptly. “I _liked_ seeing.”

Ethari managed to keep his reaction to a quiet “ _Nnngh_ ” as he remembered Runaan’s reaction pic. His vision split, and he saw Runaan sighing, moving slowly, biting his lip, giving motion to the still image that he’d looked at more than a dozen times that day…

Runaan’s chuckle was molten honey in his ear. “Until tomorrow morning, then. Good night, Ethari.” Then his voice softened and went faint with hesitation. “I hope it’s okay if I dream of you.”

Ethari gasped quietly, feeling deeply appreciated, and felt his chest fill and warm with a soft golden light. And then a sassy grin tugged at his lips. “If you do… you have to tell me about it.”

“Oh, god. Now I’m going to have the most embarrassing dream ever.”

Ethari chuckled, finding his footing again. “You have to. If I’m in the dream, I get to hear about it.”

Runaan’s sigh carried a broad smile. “Deal. You get me into so much trouble, Ethari. Good night.” He hung up before Ethari could reply.

 _I get_ him _into trouble? What does that mean_? Ethari wondered.

“Ethari…” Padam said hesitantly.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m all done. Let’s get back to work.”

“No, um.”

Ethari turned and saw his dad holding out his own phone. That grainy picture of Runaan filled its screen. “Are you talking to _this_ Runaan? Runaan Deimos?”

Ethari’s tummy flipped at his dad’s concerned tone. “Why?” he asked guardedly.

The tense, considering look that crossed Padam’s face was one Ethari hadn’t seen in over ten years, but he knew it on sight: his dad was trying to figure out how much bad news to give him at once. He’d worn that look the night Ethari’s grandparents died.

Ethari’s chest went tight. “Dad. Don’t fuck around with me right now. What is it?”

“Have you talked—has he told you—about the _incident_ yet?”

The Incident. Ethari had been searching for Runaan in the Images tab, not the News tab. He suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted to go reading up on the hijacking that Runaan had rescued his famous client from. “That was three years ago, Dad. It hasn’t come up, but he’ll tell me when he’s ready.” A worm of chilly concern twisted in Ethari’s gut, though. Runaan _was_ closed off. Maybe he’d never be ready.

Padam nodded to himself. “It’s just that…”

“Dad.”

“Well, the last guy you thought you liked—”

“I _did_ like him, Dad. Not quite like this, though.”

“And the one before him—”

“Dad, where are you going with this?”

Padam pressed his lips together, swallowed, and met Ethari’s eyes. “You can’t fix everyone, Ethari. Not if they don’t want to be fixed. Not if they can’t admit they’re broken.”

Ethari squinted at his dad and tried not to leap headlong to Runaan’s defense. The best he could manage was a soft tone when he said, “He’s not broken, Dad. It’s been three years. He has a new career, and he seems pretty well set up.”

Some dark truth hid in Padam’s eyes, but he looked down and nodded. “I hope you’re right. I don’t want to see you hurt, is all. Let’s get back to this gift, huh? Everyone likes to get presents.”

Ethari fiddled with his phone case and slipped it into his pocket. “Yeah.”

Ethari had inherited his dad’s easy charm. Within five minutes, Padam had Ethari chuckling and blushing all over again. They worked on Ethari’s little gift until it gleamed, adding just one more touch, and then just one more after that, bonding over their love of creating things together.

After a big stretch to ease his shoulders, Ethari yawned and grabbed some water. “I think it’s finally done, Dad. What do you think?”

Padam took the trinket in his hands and turned it beneath a strong desk lamp clamped onto the edge of the work table. After a thorough examination, he pressed his lips together and nodded firmly.

Ethari’s heart soared. The Padam Nod of Approval was something he’d sought over and over as a kid. He hadn’t always gotten it. But today, for Runaan’s gift, he had earned it once again. He pulled out his phone, though it was probably too late to call Runaan back—

“Holy shit, it’s four in the morning,” he blurted.

His dad nodded wisely. “It do be like that,” he deadpanned.

“Dad, _please_ don’t.”

“Why can’t I ‘how do you do, fellow kids’ if I want to?” Padam pretended to pout.

“I am never introducing Runaan to you if you’re going to be like this,” Ethari said.

“We’ll see,” his dad teased. “Now then, it’s four AM and there’s nothing we can do about that. I’m not letting you drive home at this wee hour, either. So do you want to crash on the guest room bed? Or…” he added invitingly, with a flourish toward the little table and chairs in the back corner of the workshop, “I can make coffee and you can tell me more about Runaan.”

Ethari hesitated. “I… I don’t really know that much more about him,” he confessed.

“Pssh. Since when has that ever stopped you from going on and on?” Padam tapped the back of his fingers against Ethari’s arm. “Love makes us all crazy, Son. Embrace it.”

Ethari’s chest filled with happiness, and he grinned broadly. “Coffee it is.”

Padam’s expression softened as he looked up at his son. “I haven’t seen you this happy in a while now. It looks good on you. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It’s none of my business, unless you decide that it is. I hope things work out for you both, and you have my best wishes.”

Ethari blinked at his dad’s heartfelt words. “Thanks, Dad, that means a lot.”

“C’mere, you.” Padam reached up and pulled Ethari down into a tight hug. “Listen to me. You’re still my little boy, and I still hold you in my heart, more than I ever have. You deserve to be happy, in whatever form that takes. I just want you to get the chance to love and be loved, like I found with your mom. I want that for you, _so much_ , okay? It’s really important. _You’re_ really important.”

Ethari heard the wobble in his dad’s voice and realized he was tearing up. “Dad, it’s meant the world to me that you have my back. Your support has been amazing.”

Padam tried to sniff quietly. “Eh, you got big and strong, Ethari. You don’t need my support anymore. You can go do anything you put your mind to.” He patted his son’s back.

But Ethari wasn’t ready to let go. “No, Dad, listen. I might not _need_ your support. But I _want_ it. I love that I have it. I go through my day knowing that you’re out here supporting me, and loving me just the way I am, and…” his arms tightened around his dad’s shoulders, “it means so much. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Ethari. But you gotta let me out of this vice grip hug if you want that coffee.”

Ethari chuckled and untucked Runaan’s scarf so it looped loosely again. “Coffee sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which I am Ethari's mom apparently


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night date night date night date ni

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhh this chapter is a little longer than the others, and uhhh it didn't even get to the part I meant to include! This story has reached the phase where it's having its way with me. So Date Night Part Two will come next.
> 
> I don't really know what to tell you except that Ethari has Very Clear Ideas about fondue, and he sprung them on me without warning. You're all welcome.
> 
> why do i keep using food like this should i apologize or

Ethari made it home around nine in the morning, wired and wide awake from one last cup of coffee at his parents’ place before hitting the road. He set Runaan’s gift in a small box and wrapped it with a turquoise ribbon, making sure it would be ready to give at the next available opportunity. Then he pulled out his phone and grinned at it, bouncing on his toes.

 _Good morning. Sleep okay?_ he texted.

_Yes. I don’t mean to judge your life choices, but do you always wake up this late on weekends?_

Ethari read Runaan’s prompt reply and snorted under his breath. He’d been awake for twenty-four hours and seventeen minutes. _I’ve been up for a while actually._

_Really? Maybe you are perfect after all._

Ethari made a soft sound in the back of his throat and grinned broadly at his phone, drinking in Runaan’s unabashed compliment. His thumbs tapped out a reply. _If you only knew how untrue that is._

_Not possible. I see what I see._

Ethari snorted again. _You sure you got the right prescription in those glasses, hon?_

Runaan sent him a rofl emoji. _What are you up to today?_

Ethari blinked and looked around his apartment as if scanning for inspiration. Then he remembered his mom. _Cleaning my kitchen. You?_

_Daydreaming in meetings about a hot guy cleaning his kitchen, apparently._

_Yeah? You want I should snap on a pair of long rubber gloves or something? I have some bright yellow ones with daisy cuffs. Gonna be scrubbing REAL hard, working up a good sweat._

_Oh god._

_Aprons do anything for you? I might throw one on over my big muscular bare chest just so I don’t get water sprayed all over my gleaming chocolate skin._

A short pause. _Dammit, I really need to find that nosebleed emoji. Do you write romance novels on the side or something?_

_You could say it runs in the family._

_I was right all along then. You are perfect._

Ethari read Runaan’s words and felt a warmth blossom in his chest. Runaan texted again before he could ask if Runaan really read romance novels, though.

_Gotta go. Meeting. Tell me more about these novels later. I’m always looking for new books._

Ethari blushed at the thought of his new boyfriend reading his mom’s gay pirate novels—and learning why she started writing them—but he wasn’t about to say no to Runaan. _Deal. Have a good day, hon._

Runaan’s reply strutted in several seconds later. _You’re adorable._

***

Ethari tinkered with his little eyeglass bunny project for a while, watered his window herbs, and trundled a load of laundry down to the building’s laundry room. But after lunch, he did pull on those yellow daisy gloves, and he even tied on a matching apron over his bare chest, purely so he could take a selfie to tease Runaan with. He managed to refrain from sending it immediately after taking one he liked, though—Runaan was in meetings, after all, and Ethari remembered how easily Runaan got distracted by Ethari’s photos.

That wasn’t a bad thing at all. It just needed the right timing. He grinned and felt his cheeks warm.

Then he cranked his favorite music and sang along loudly and mostly on-key as he tackled his kitchen. Shelves got organized, counters got scrubbed, dishes got washed and set in the drainer, and he even took a cloth to his cupboard doors, wiping off finger smudges he hadn’t realized had been building up. “Sorry, Mom,” he murmured as he rinsed out his cloth under a stream of hot water. “You were right.”

He swept and mopped his linoleum, using the mop handle as a makeshift microphone when his favorite Oingo Boingo song came on, belting out “It’s a dead man’s party, who could ask for more? Everybody’s coming, leave your body at the door. Leave your body and soul at the door! Don’t run away, it’s only me—”

He broke off as Adam Lambert started singing over the house music. “Ah, shit, shit,” he blurted, struggling with his wet rubber gloves. He paused his Spotify list and answered breathlessly. “Hi.”

“How’s the kitchen job coming?” Runaan’s tone was businesslike.

Ethari rolled with it. “Ninety-three percent completion, Boss. Final target has been pinged and we’re taking it down as we speak.” He nudged the hapless broom as it rested against the counter.

Runaan’s response caught Ethari off guard, but it really shouldn’t have. In a firm voice that carried just a hint of smile, he immediately replied, “Who are you and what have you done with my soft eyeglass shop boyfriend?”

 _Boyfriend? Hhhhhhh_. The steel underlying Runaan’s teasing set Ethari’s heart aflutter. “He’s, uhh, we’re keeping him very comfortable. And making him clean his kitchen like his mom wanted.”

“Proof of life?” Runaan’s voice was cool again.

Ethari grinned broadly and sent him the apron selfie.

“Mmm. Good. Excellent proof indeed. Now listen closely.” Runaan’s voice dropped into a dangerous register. “I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom I can tell you I don't have money, but what I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my boyfriend go now that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you, but if you don't, I _will_ look for you, I _will_ find you and I _will_ kill you.”

Ethari’s heart straight-up bailed on the notion of rhythm. “Oh my _f-fucking_ god.” He collapsed onto the floor, grabbing his mop handle for support. “I surrender. I just surrender, do whatever you want with me, god _damn_.”

Runaan’s reply was prompt, and much warmer than his Liam Neeson impression. “Okay. Come over tonight.”

Ethari could barely think gay let alone straight as he blurted, “You got it.” But half a second later, a single rational thought returned. “Wait, what about your meetings, your prep?”

“That’s why I’m calling. We’re all done. I may have pushed everyone a little harder than they liked, but I’m also giving the team the rest of the day. We start the next phase in the morning.”

“How long will that go?” Ethari’s voice was small.

“Right up until the big night. Couple of weeks.”

“Will you have any free time?”

“…No. It’ll be full focus the whole time.”

Tonight, or two weeks from now. Ethari gulped. He took a moment to just think, and process what he really wanted.

Runaan had said he pushed everyone hard. And Ethari hated to admit it, but Runaan was pushing him right now. Ethari had always been easy with the physical side of relationships, so he was happy to let Runaan set their pace. And it had been a while. And Runaan was deliciously hot. But Ethari had been dragged to places he hadn’t always wanted to go by people who said they’d loved him. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of his own boundaries. _I go where I want to go, and nowhere else. And I really want to go over to Runaan’s place! Definitely want to get closer to this guy, in all the ways._

“Okay. When should I be there?”

“How about five? We can eat, maybe game for a while?”

“Food and combat sounds good to me!”

Runaan chuckled. “Me too. I’m at 24767 Deepforest Drive, north of town. Gate code is 625.”

Ethari made a mental note of the numbers. “Wait, it’s what? Isn’t that a little… I don’t know, obvious?”

“What do you mean?”

“The gate code. It’s your height.”

A shocked silence emanated from the other end of the line. “Yes, it is. But only people who get really close to me ever come close to knowing that.”

Ethari thought he detected a hint of defensiveness in Runaan’s voice. Maybe because he’d meant “close” in either respect. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Another pause. “You always know what to say. See you at five.”

***

Ethari bounced around his apartment, high on anticipation and caffeine and a couple of energy drinks and entirely unable to settle on what to wear. _I really should’ve taken a nap. If I don’t keep up on the caffeine tonight…_ He pushed that thought away, supremely confident that the excitement of his evening would keep him entirely awake.

Unable to keep his buzzing thoughts to himself, he stopped jumping up and down on his couch, flopped across it with a careless sprawl, and pulled out his phone to text someone. _Is it okay if I humblebrag that I have a date tonight? I’m three energy drinks in a trenchcoat!_

Opeli responded almost immediately. _I’m so happy for you! Please be safe and have a good time._

_Thank you!!_

_Is it okay if I say you can call or text me if you need to?_ Opeli added. _Just in case._

Ethari sobered for a moment as he stared at Opeli’s text. A few years back, such a message would’ve saved him a whole lot of trouble. He felt very safe with Runaan, but then he’d felt safe with others, too, when he really shouldn’t have. _It’s very okay_ , he tapped out. _That means a lot, actually._

_I gotchu, fam. Things going well, huh?_

_Very well. I’m in actual love here._

_Can’t blame you. Runaan Deimos is a fine-looking man._

_That’s just his outer shell. His sundae layers go all the way down._

_How many bites have you taken?_ 😉

Ethari was reminded of his snacking joke, and he chuckled to himself. _A gentleman never eats and tells._

_So, more than zero, huh?_

He bit his lip and ran his fingers across the fading love bite Runaan had given him. _I am not giving you a play-by-play tomorrow morning._

_You won’t have to. You’re terrible at hiding your feelings._

“And I may be walking funny,” Ethari chortled to himself. He sent her a string of straight-mouthed emoji faces. _No idea what you’re on about._

_LOL just have a good time, Ethari. I’m happy for you._

He smiled up at his phone screen. _Me too._

By 4:00, Ethari had grabbed a shower and was chugging another Red Bull and trying to decide what to wear while he stood in his skivvies in the middle of a clothing explosion that coated his entire bedroom. He thought about texting Opeli again for outfit advice, but that idea was too close to the notion that he might not be quite awake enough to make good choices on his own. He dragged on a pair of dark blue jeans and a fabulous double-breasted purple vest with decorative navy lacings up the back. Then he spent way too much time on his hair, trying to convince it to do something other than its usual messy flop.

He was just conceding that his hair had won this round—again—when his phone dinged that it was time to hit the road. Ethari looked his reflection in the eye and pressed a grinning kiss against the mirror. “I love being me. Tonight is going to be so much fun.”

He grabbed his coat and darted out the door, heart full of eager anticipation.

A minute later, he burst back in again and picked up the little box he’d wrapped, containing Runaan’s gift. The whole reason he’d stayed up all last night in the first place.

Two minutes after that, he returned again, swearing a blue streak under his breath, and nabbed a wine bottle by the neck. The wine bottle he’d set out in plain sight so he’d be very sure not to forget it. And had promptly forgotten.

“Still love being me!” he hollered to his empty apartment as he slammed the door.

***

Runaan stood in front of his full length mirror and frowned with his hands on his hips, breathing a little more stressed than he’d like for a second date. Or for a job, for that matter.The old pair of black button-fly jeans had been an easy choice, but he’d run into an unexpected snag when picking a shirt for the evening. Now he stood, staring at his shirtless, scarred reflection with what his god-daughter Rayla had described as “the Kuzco grimace.” And no small amount of tension in his shoulders.

_I’m going to show him. I’m going to. Just need to work out the presentation._

He pulled on a navy blue button front, buttoned it up, and then unbuttoned it, studying the effect.

 _Ugh, no. This can’t be ordinary._ He peeled it off his shoulders as swiftly as he could, balled it up, and chucked it into his walk-in closet. Then he stalked after it, stepped across its rumpled carcass as it lay sprawled across the cream carpet, and riffled through his hangers—on both sides of the aisle—until he came across an old favorite. His eyes lit on its asymmetrical zip closure, which angled in the same direction as the damage across his chest.

A smile spread across his face.

_Yes. This will hold me together._

***

“Come on up.”

Was it Ethari’s imagination, or did Runaan sound a little breathless over the gate intercom? “Be there in a jif.”

“Take your time. The driveway is long, and I’ve got deer.”

“Oh! Wild deer or do you actually own them?”

“I think they own me. See you soon.”

The tall wrought-iron gates swung open slowly in front of Ethari’s dark red Toyota. He eyed the late evening sun as it played across the lightly landscaped hill ahead of him. The driveway rose as it angled through the shadowy gloom in the hollow down here by the main road. He could see glimpses of it as it rose into the frosty light amid small, neat clusters of landscaped trees. Runaan’s house capped the hill in the distance, its details too small to make out yet.

He tongued a molar and took a deep breath, and his tummy flipped. He checked his hair one last time in the rear view mirror and huffed into his hand. Minty fresh. _Here we go_. He eased forward between the gate’s square granite pillars and drove slowly through the open landscape. Here and there, small ornamental trees and flowerbeds showed an appreciation for taming the wild and bending it to Runaan’s will. Each garden area was carefully bordered, pruned, and free of weeds. The areas near switchback turns had even been terraced in designs that rode the curves of the hill, enhancing its natural beauty.

 _Control freak who appreciates beauty, huh? Sounds about right._ Ethari reached the broad parking area in front of the house having felt like he learned quite a bit from Runaan’s landscaping preferences. He pulled to a stop near the front porch, not seeing any other cars nor marked parking areas.

 _Hope he doesn’t ticket me_ , Ethari chuckled to himself. He patted his coat pocket to make sure that Runaan’s present was still secure, rescued the wine bottle from where he’d seat-belted it into his passenger seat, and headed across the nubbly tan gravel to Runaan’s front door. It crackled loudly underfoot, and he grinned. _Runaan really doesn’t want anyone sneaking up on him, does he?_

He took a deep breath in front of the door and looked for a doorbell, but he didn’t find one. _Huh. Okay._ He raised his free hand and knocked firmly with the back of one knuckle.

The door opened a few seconds later. Runaan stood there, hand still on the door, and smiled softly with a bit of pink in his cheeks. “You’re here.”

Ethari gave him a once-over, deeply appreciating the sight of the slender man in bare feet, tight black jeans, and a deep green sleeveless shirt with a bright silver asymmetrical zip that left the top several inches undone as makeshift lapels. “You did tell me to come on up.” He shot Runaan a saucy wink.

“Are you always going to do what I say?” Runaan asked softly.

Ethari looked Runaan up and down again, slowly and deliberately. “Let’s just say I’m very inclined.”

The blush in Runaan’s cheeks deepened, and the fizzy light in Ethari’s chest fluttered. _He’s actually nervous! Oh my god, he’s so cute like this._

Runaan looked down for a moment until he got his blush under control. He met Ethari’s eyes again and took a quick breath. “It’s good to see you.”

“You sound like you haven’t seen me in weeks. It’s been two days. But you know what?”

“What?”

Ethari gentled his voice. “I missed you too.”

Runaan’s brows lifted in pleased surprise. “Then you’d better come in.”

He stepped back and opened the door wider, and Ethari crossed his threshold. The smell of Runaan’s house filled his nose, somehow warm and crisp at the same time. It smelled like order and sanity and peace.

Ethari loved it.

“I brought some wine. Hope that’s okay?” He held out the bottle of red.

Runaan accepted it automatically. “Oh, uh. Thanks. I’m taking a break from alcohol at the moment. But you can have some if you want.”

Ethari blinked. “Oh. Sorry, I should’ve asked what to bring. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, it’s fine,” Runaan reassured him with a smile. He set the wine on a round table in the middle of the foyer, next to a big vase of bright flowers “My turn to get your coat,” he murmured, stepping behind Ethari.

Ethari’s eyes widened as Runaan slipped his fingers around his collar. His coat slid off his shoulders, and his bare arms prickled in the cool air.

“ _Damn_.” Runaan’s whisper was soft, but with feeling.

Ethari turned and spotted Runaan’s gaze pinned on his back. “You like the vest, huh?”

Runaan snapped his eyes back up to Ethari’s. He gave him a breathless grin and flicked one eyebrow at him. “Don’t worry about the wine. You brought yourself, and that’s all I really wanted. You can have as much wine as you want. I’ll look after you.”

Ethari grinned broadly as Runaan hung his coat in a lazy Susan closet in the foyer’s corner. “Promise?”

Runaan spun the lazy Susan, closed his front door, and stepped close, steadying Ethari’s chin with his thumb and finger. “Yes.”

Ethari caught sight of motion over Runaan’s shoulder, but when he shifted his gaze, he only saw the both of them in a full length mirror on the foyer wall. Heat slammed into his cheeks, and his chest tightened as he tried to suck in a full breath. The intense feelings that had swarmed him the first day he met Runaan rushed right back into his head.

Runaan began to lean in for a kiss, but he paused at the sight of Ethari’s intense stare. “What is it?”

Ethari swallowed hard, eyes full of double vision. “I uhm. Can I make a confession?”

Runaan raised his pale brows and let his hand fall from Ethari’s chin. “I’m all ears.”

Ethari nibbled at his bottom lip for a moment and decided to go for it. “Okay, but I’m going to need your help to set the scene.” He reached up for Runaan’s dark blue frames. “Can I take these off? It’ll help with the timeline.”

“The…? Okay.” Runaan nodded assent with a quizzical smile, and Ethari eased the frames off his face as gently as he had in the shop. He folded them beside the wine bottle and took hold of Runaan’s wrist, gently lining him up with the mirror.

Then he took a deep breath and turned to face him. Behind the white-haired man, the full length mirror let Ethari truly see double, and that first day Runaan walked into the shop flared extra bright in his mind’s eye.

He stepped closer to Runaan. “The first time I saw you, there was something different about you. I didn’t know what it was at first, but you caught my interest right away.”

“I did, hmm?” Runaan’s voice was a velvet purr.

Ethari placed his hand against Runaan’s chest and stepped forward. Runaan moved with him as if they were dancing. “We nearly collided within the first minute of meeting each other, do you remember?”

Runaan smiled softly. “I do. I wasn’t focused enough on you. Nearly ran right into you.”

“I helped you take off your coat. You smelled amazing, and you were so warm. Did you hear me swear under my breath?” he murmured.

Runaan’s reply was a little breathless. “I was copying you just now, wasn’t I?”

Ethari’s fingertips landed along Runaan’s cheeks as lightly as butterflies. “You let me touch your face. I touched it way more than I needed to.”

Runaan’s voice dropped to a thirsty whisper. “I think I do remember that part.”

Ethari’s thumb glossed across Runaan’s bottom lip, and he hooked a finger under Runaan’s chin and tilted it up until their eyes met. “The part you don’t know about yet is the part when you backed against that mirror on the wall, and what it did to me.” He took one more step forward, and Runaan’s shoulders bumped against the foyer mirror. Ethari slid his tongue across his own bottom lip and lowered his gaze to Runaan’s mouth.

“I… may have put myself there on purpose…” Runaan breathed. “I knew what I was doing to you. I didn’t know I was d-doing it so well.”

Ethari tilted Runaan’s chin up even further and leaned in to press a light kiss against the corner of his mouth. His other hand snaked around to the small of Runaan’s back, and he leaned in, trapping Runaan between his hand and his own body. “You were teasing me even then, huh?”

Runaan writhed lightly against Ethari. “I… I think we might b-both have b- _bhhhh_ …” His voice faltered as Ethari pressed more kisses, gentle as moth’s wings, across his cheek and down to his ear. His hands slid around Ethari’s waist and his fingers knotted in the lacings on the back of his vest, desperate for Ethari to stay that close.

Ethari smiled against Runaan’s skin. “Warming up, are you?”

“You haven’t told me everything yet,” Runaan said breathlessly.

“No? What did I leave out?” Ethari took Runaan’s chin in his fingers again and studied Runaan’s pretty mouth, soft and open, and that full bottom lip, gleaming wet in the bright lights.

Runaan’s fingers dug more tightly into Ethari’s lacings. “What did you want to do about it?”

“ _Ohh_ ,” Ethari let his voice thicken with amusement, and he deliberately turned Runaan’s chin so he could nibble along the other side of his jaw. “You’re right. I didn’t say that part yet, did I?” he murmured, before nipping at Runaan’s earlobe.

Runaan struggled lightly against him and let out a frustrated chuckle. “You’re going to make me ask for it, aren’t you?”

“Now that’s a great idea, Runaan,” Ethari murmured against Runaan’s ear. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

“ _Nnngh_.” Runaan’s fingers flexed and shifted, tangling harder in those lacings and making Ethari’s breathing shallow out. His turquoise eyes sparked with fervent heat. “Ethari, I need you to kiss me. Hard.”

Ethari’s tummy flipped at the heat in Runaan’s voice. He took Runaan’s face in his hands and brought his mouth down over those soft lips, checking Runaan’s shoulders back against the mirror with a loud thump. The deep moan of need and satisfaction that rumbled up from Runaan’s chest sent Ethari into overdrive. He shifted and swept Runaan’s right leg up, and Runaan eagerly locked it around his waist, bringing their bodies flush. Ethari pressed him against the mirror, loving the feel of Runaan clinging to him, unable to pull himself close enough. He hummed delightedly against Runaan’s tongue, and his right hand brushed Runaan’s side and pressed ever so lightly. “God, I’m trying to be gentle with you—let me know if I hurt you—”

“You’re good, all good,” Runaan panted.

“Yeah? Good.” Ethari cupped Runaan’s face and sucked at his bottom lip, lavishing it with ardent nibbles that made Runaan arch his back and buck his hips against Ethari’s. His soft cry drew an answering hum of deep pleasure from Ethari’s lips. Then he kissed Runaan softly, slowly, reverently, and pressed their foreheads together, letting Runaan catch his breath. The sounds of their breaths mixing together was insanely beautiful, a perfect duet. “I love the noises you make, Runaan,” Ethari murmured. “I’ve been curious what you’d sound like.”

Runaan gulped for air and managed a faint chuckle. “You b-been thinking about that for two weeks, too?”

Ethari brushed his nose along Runaan’s cheek. “Mmhmm.”

Runaan’s smile broadened, and he rocked his head against the mirror. “And I thought _I_ was moving fast, the way I was thinking about you.”

Ethari realized he’d literally walked in Runaan’s door and immediately pinned him against the nearest wall. _Holy cats, I’m a disaster. Get yourself together, Ethari. You haven’t even had dinner yet! Save dessert for after the meal._ “We can slow it down. I _am_ actually hungry. For real food, I mean.”

Runaan grinned mischievously and reluctantly lowered his right foot to the floor again. He rested one hand lightly against Ethari’s waist and kissed him softly, as if in thanks for Ethari’s enthusiastic greeting—or the vulnerable truth they’d just shared. “Then you’re really going to like this. Come on.” He caressed Ethari’s cheek with soft fingers, and then he captured his hand. He pulled him toward the broad doorway that led into the rest of the house and picked up the wine bottle as he went.

Ethari enjoyed his throbbingly heady daze as Runaan towed him down a short, broad hallway, muzzily taking in background details like the high ceiling and open floor plan. Pale gray walls held bright artwork and big windows, letting Ethari see space and beauty in every direction he looked. But his gaze kept drawing back to that long white ponytail dancing down Runaan’s back. The way he tugged on Ethari’s hand, Ethari felt like the guy from those Following My Girlfriend pictures. _This man can tow me anywhere he likes. Oh. He’s towing me into his kitchen._

Runaan stashed the wine in his stainless steel fridge. While he was taking a moment to rummage around in there, Ethari glanced across the room. _It’s so big, he has one of those islands with extra storage space in it. I wonder what he keeps in those bottom drawers. Hmmm, I wonder if he’d let me set him on top of it…_

“Carry this for me?” Runaan asked.

Ethari dragged his gaze back and saw Runaan holding out a large black stoneware fruit platter. He automatically accepted it, and Runaan tugged off its plastic wrap.

“Right this way,” Runaan said. He nabbed a purple grape from the bowl in the center of the platter and popped it in his mouth. Then he offered a second one to Ethari, holding it gently.

Ethari nibbled it from between Runaan’s fingers and was delighted to hear him gasp softly through his nose as Ethari sucked at his fingertips. “Mmm. Sweet.”

Runaan tsked and grinned at him. “Just you wait.” He led the way across a large family room scattered with comfy gray leather couches and chairs, then he stepped out into one of the most amazing rooms Ethari had ever seen.

The space occupied one corner of the house, and its rounded, quarter-circle wall was paneled entirely with glass like a classy modern version of a Victorian greenhouse. The even glass squares angled up the wall and overhead in a sweeping dome. They were studded here and there with little diamonds of green or blue glass which didn’t obstruct the view and enhanced the feeling of lush coolness.

Beneath the sheltering glass, Runaan was growing a veritable forest of plants. They formed a kind of bower that lent a secluded hush to the room’s centerpiece: an extra large hammock strewn with a few overstuffed pillows. The bamboo frame supported an interwoven lattice of dark fabric which supported a pale blue padded expanse that looked bigger than a queen sized bed.

Ethari’s eyes widened. It looked insanely comfortable, here in such an intimate setting.

Beside it sat a small round table that held a dark pot and an assortment of brightly colored trays. One of them supported a stack of massive soft pretzels. The pot gave off the thick, rich smell of melted chocolate.

“You have to come closer, or you can’t have any,” Runaan murmured. He slipped the fruit tray from Ethari’s fingers and set it on the round table.

“It’s… Runaan, this is _amazing_ …”

“You like it?” A hesitant note entered Runaan’s voice.

Ethari’s eyes roamed the lush vining plants, vibrant full-headed blooms, and the warm golden light of late evening that poured in through the glass wall. The smells of exotic flowers and chocolate mixed headily in his nose. He turned to Runaan, who seemed to fit perfectly in this room, its caretaker and centerpiece, its most glorious bloom. “I’m in love,” he murmured.

Runaan’s eyes widened sharply, and Ethari caught another soft gasp.

“With this room,” he added teasingly. “It’s beautiful. You must spend so much time in here.”

Runaan looked down, and his cheeks pinked. “I… not really. I’m more of a gym aficionado.”

Ethari pretended to pout. “Well maybe I’m just in love with your gardener, then. My apartment doesn’t have room for anything like this. I have a couple of herb pots in my kitchen window and that’s all I can really keep alive. Poor things. It’s a wonder they survive at all, the way I keep nibbling on them.” He reached out and stroked his fingers along a glossy leaf.

“Ethari…” Runaan’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

He looked over. “Hmm?”

“I don’t have a gardener.”

Ethari grinned at him and stepped closer. He tipped up Runaan’s chin with one finger, still smiling, and let his eyes linger on Runaan’s lips. “Well then. You know what that means.”

His tummy chose that moment to gurgle ridiculously loudly, causing him to chuckle at himself, having lost his dramatic moment.

Runaan smiled down at his stomach. “It means I should feed you. Come, sit with me. You promised me pretzels and chocolate, and I need you to explain to me how that’s a good combination.” He tugged Ethari over to the giant hammock.

“Okay, but... is that thing stable? It’s not going to dump me on my ass, is it?”

Runaan smiled reassuringly. “It won’t. It’s kind of like a silk bucket seat.” Runaan settled onto the edge of the light blue fabric and moved the hammock back and forth by pushing off the floor with his feet. Ethari admitted that he did look balanced and comfortable doing it.

Then he squinted down at the white-haired man. “Hold up. Did you say ‘silk’? This is a _silk_ hammock.”

“Yes. I picked it up in Bangkok a few years back. Why? Are you allergic to silk?”

“No, just…” Ethari let his eyes drift across its glistening expanse, dotted with a few decorative matching pillows. _It’s like a bed made of silk sheets. Maybe I won’t get much of a house tour after all…_ “I like it. It looks really comfortable.” He settled next to Runaan and bumped shoulders with him. Then he scooted away, turned, and laid down along the edge of the hammock with his head on Runaan’s thigh. One arm draped dramatically off the hammock’s edge and his other hand cupped its way around Runaan’s waist. “You can feed me now,” he teased.

Runaan looked down at Ethari, who appeared suddenly in his lap, and let out a quiet, surprised laugh. “Okay.” He smoothed a lock of Ethari’s unruly hair out of his eyes and traced his thumb along his cheekbone. “Pretzel first, or fruit?”

“Fruit, please.”

Runaan stabbed an apple wedge with a fondue fork and swirled it expertly through the chocolate fondue before hovering it above Ethari’s lips. Ethari opened up and accepted the bite, and its flavors melted across his tongue. Crisp and gooey, tart and sweet, hot and cold—the combination of opposites drew a pleased hum from his lips, and he squeezed Runaan’s waist comfortingly, enjoying the feel of Runaan’s quiet gasp at the gesture.

While he was lost in enjoyment, Runaan had been dipping another apple wedge for him. Ethari ate that one, too, and the next, appreciating Runaan’s timing and attention. “Mmm, do you feed all your dates fondue? You’re really good at this.”

Runaan just smiled and looked away for a moment.

Ethari felt another wave of teasing coming on. He sat up and scooted around in the big hammock until he knelt behind Runaan, knees out to the sides, so he could press close and murmur right near Runaan’s ear. He settled his hands on Runaan’s waist and said, “Oh, I get it. You only give your other dates _cheese_ fondue, don’t you? That’s why you don’t know about chocolate and pretzels yet.” He dropped a soft kiss against Runaan’s ear, while his arms encircled his date and gave him a gentle squeeze.

Runaan’s cheeks blazed, and he inhaled sharply at Ethari’s looming murmur. He picked up a knife and made a deep slice through the whole stack of soft pretzels, followed by another one, creating a stack of neat pieces. He stabbed the top one with his fork and dipped it in the hot, thick chocolate sauce. Then he held it out to Ethari, who still sat behind him. “I await your instruction, then.”

Ethari took the long, slender fork. He eyed the pretzel slice. Then he studied the other pretzels, and the fruit platter, and the other evenly sliced goodies Runaan had prepared. He shifted around to Runaan’s right side until their eyes met. “You cut all of this yourself, didn’t you?”

Runaan popped one eyebrow up. “Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

“What, you don’t like my slicing?” Runaan seemed mildly offended.

Ethari grinned saucily and ate the pretzel off the fork. Ignoring Runaan’s look of protest, he waved the long utensil casually. “See,” he said around his bite, “here’s the thing about pretzels. They’re big and soft.”

Runaan watched him intensely, curious as to where he was going with this.

Ethari reached over and picked up the top pretzel, and then he tore it into a few big pieces. “Lots of nooks and crannies in them, if you let them separate naturally instead of forcing them with a blade.” He stabbed one rough-edged pretzel piece with the fondue fork and sank it into the chocolate until it vanished. Then he pulled it back out and turned it expertly until the drizzling chocolate was caught around the food. “You’ve got to work _with_ the pretzel, not against it.”

With a saucy wink, Ethari took Runaan’s chin in his free hand and pressed the pad of his thumb against those soft lips, sliding down until Runaan’s mouth opened for him. He hooked his finger beneath Runaan’s chin and tilted his face up as he brought in the thickly chocolated pretzel. Just as Runaan’s lips parted widely enough, Ethari slid the hot morsel across his tongue. He pressed Runaan’s mouth shut around it and slid the fondue fork through his pursed lips. Then, just as the rich flavor registered on Runaan’s face, Ethari leaned in and kissed him.

“Mmm— _mmmph_!”

Ethari laughed against his lips. Then he pulled away and murmured, “See? My way is definitely better.”

Runaan shot him a hot, intense glare, cheeks bright pink, chest heaving. He grumpily chewed and swallowed his chocolatey pretzel bite while Ethari tried not to grin too widely. “That’s— That was—” Runaan began. Then his gaze suddenly narrowed, and his lips curved up. After a beat, he added, “I still don’t see the appeal. You’ll have to explain it again.”

Ethari chuckled knowingly and stabbed another torn pretzel piece. “It took me a while to recognize when you’re flirting with me, but I think I’ve got you figured out now.” He dunked the bite into the fondue and swirled it around, all the while holding eye contact with Runaan.

Runaan raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Oh really? Every litt— _mmhh_ —”

Ethari took Runaan’s mouth in a hot kiss, feeling his soft gasp of protest vibrate across his tongue. Runaan’s fingers curled into Ethari’s hair, holding him in place, and he began to sink back across the hammock, pulling Ethari with him.

But Ethari cupped the back of Runaan’s neck and pulled away, replacing his tongue’s presence in Runaan’s mouth with a differentr hot, sweet morsel. He shut Runaan’s mouth again, abandoned the fork on the table, and pressed his hand over Runaan’s lips, feeling a soft _mmmff_ of questioning protest against his palm. Only then did he let Runaan pull him down to the hammock.

He lay beside him in the silken nest and pinned Runaan in place with a thigh across his hips. “Hold still for me,” he murmured, pressing his hand more firmly across Runaan’s mouth. “Hold that sweet bite right there. I want to taste you. Only fair you’re tasting something sweet, too.”

Runaan writhed lightly beside him, and his chest heaved with intensity, but he gazed up at Ethari as he propped himself on one elbow next to him, and offered a slow, catlike blink. “Mm,” he agreed from under Ethari’s hand.

Ethari grinned. He turned Runaan’s head just enough to expose the side of his neck. “I believe we discussed pinning you down so I could nibble some low-hanging fruit at one point?” he murmured. He began to trail hot nips and kisses across Runaan’s skin.

“ _Mmfff_!” Runaan blurted, arching against Ethari’s mouth. “Mm-hmm,” he added breathlessly.

“Don’t worry,” Ethari murmured. “I won’t get any juice in your hair.” He pulled Runaan’s zipper-edged lapel wide, exposing the tender spot where neck met shoulder, and hummed a long nibbly kiss against it, grazing the delicate skin with his teeth and causing Runaan to moan and writhe beneath his steadying thigh. “Might get some in mine if I’m not careful, though.”

Runaan bucked, fingers desperately plucking at Ethari’s lacings, and let out a long groan against his palm. His breath came in heady huffs against Ethari’s fingers, and his jaw worked around that big chocolatey bite Ethari was trapping.

“Is it good?” Ethari whispered, right against his ear. His teeth nibbled at Runaan’s earlobe.

“Mmhmm.” Runaan’s voice was a whimper.

“Hot?”

“Mm!”

“Sweet?”

“ _Mmm_ -hm-hmm,” Runaan groaned.

Ethari let a growly burr enter his voice. “We’re not talking about the chocolate pretzel anymore, are we?”

Runaan’s eyes blazed up at him. “Hmm’mm.”

“I didn’t think so. Guess you’d better swallow that bite now, because I want to hear you nice and loud.”

Runaan’s pupils blew, and he made a choking noise under Ethari’s hand. Ethari chuckled and scooped him into his arms, and he rolled over until Runaan was on top of him. He cupped Runaan’s cheeks as the slender man braced himself against Ethari’s chest. “No dying. I haven’t even started yet. And that’s not the kind of noise I’m hoping to hear.”

Runaan coughed his way through a laugh and finally swallowed his bite, cheeks flushing a deep, hot pink. One hand fluttered toward the zipper on his shirt like a nervous hummingbird, never quite landing. “Before… Before we start, there’s something I—”

Before he could finish, though, a bright new spot of color caught Ethari’s eye, drawing his gaze across the room.

A tall woman with dark hair was doing her best to tiptoe backward out of the room, carrying a tray with two glasses and a clear pitcher of wildly sloshing bright red juice. The way she was biting her lips in an effort not to grin and deliberately looking _very very away_ told Ethari that she’d definitely gotten an eyeful.

“Is that your _masseuse_?” he blurted.

“What?” Runaan scrambled up into a sitting position and turned, self-consciously smoothing his hair back. Ethari propped himself up on his elbows against the padded silk and tried to blink his way through the thick romantic haze in the room. It was hard to see past his vivid double vision, though, and flashes of imagery kept shooting into visual range: fingers on buttons set in black denim, Runaan’s head thrown back, the tug of his fingers in Ethari’s hair… Ethari groaned regretfully and let it all go—for the moment.

Amaya caught their sudden separating motion and paused, taking a moment to collect herself before she met Runaan’s eyes. He signed something to her, but since her hands were full, she just gave him a cheeky grin and flicked her eyebrows once. Runaan signed something else, and Amaya turned and handed the tray off to someone else in the kitchen before signing back with several short bursts of motion.

Ethari’s cheeks began a dull, hot glow. How many people had he just been performing for? “I’m so confused,” he murmured. _Maybe if I had any blood in my brain…_

“My fault,” Runaan said. His cheeks had flushed with a whole different shade of pink. “Amaya, Ethari. Ethari, Amaya.” He spelled out Ethari’s name for Amaya with his fingers as he said it.

“Hello,” Ethari said automatically. Amaya smirked and gave him a saucy chin lift.

Runaan continued, “She and her wife Janai live on the property. I told them they could use my kitchen anytime they wanted to.” His voice dropped low with embarrassment as he added, “And then I, ah, entirely forgot to tell them that I was having you over for a date.”

Ethari felt his brows gather. _Ohh. He doesn’t do this very often, does he? That kind of explains why he’s so beautifully sensitive to being touched…_ Ethari bit his lip and tucked that bit of information away. “So, the juice…?”

Runaan took a breath. “Janai saw you drive up, and Amaya thought she’d add something to our date to say hello and check you out. But we uh, we moved faster than she expected, and she couldn’t hear any of our, um. _Noises_. Until she got into the room.” He looked to be at a loss for words for a moment. When he met Ethari’s eyes, he tried to smile, but it was clear he was pretty mortified. “Sorry.”

Ethari had been through worse, though. He hid his face in his hands and laughed softly to himself. “Ah, god. Nothing is ever boring with you, Runaan.”

“You’re… not upset with me?”

The tiniest tremble in Runaan’s voice told Ethari that Runaan was actually close to cracking. He felt he’d failed in some big way, ruined the mood due to his own carelessness. Ethari felt a surge of warmth and concern flood his chest. _How long has it been since he’s dated anyone?_

It didn’t matter, though. Ethari just needed to let Runaan know that they were still on the same side. “ _Pffft_ , over this? This is _hilarious_. It’ll make a great origin story for us sometime in the distant future. Like, next week.” He sat up and addressed Amaya while sliding a hand around Runaan’s waist. “Does he get flustered like this often, or is it just me?”

She glanced at Runaan for a long moment, then back at Ethari. Her answer was to point at him. _Just you_ , her gesture indicated.

“Does that mean I’m special?” he murmured to Runaan.

“I think so,” Runaan replied warmly. He interwove his fingers with Ethari’s and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, but his cheeks were still visibly blushing.

Ethari beamed back at him, feeling his heart tumble even further down the rabbit hole that was loving this man.

Janai sauntered in and stood by her new bride, having set the juice tray down in the kitchen. “ _Mon dieu_ , _Cherie_ , look at their faces. They should get a room.” She signed as she spoke and then added a distinct gesture that Ethari definitely already knew.

“We _had_ a room,” Runaan said coolly, having found his balance again with Ethari’s help. “Now you’re standing in it.”

“I saw no sock on the door handle,” Janai teased.

Runaan shot her a look. “That’s because there’s no door.”

“Clearly a flaw in your home’s design,” she commented easily.

“You just let your wife walk in on us, huh?” Runaan pressed, as if finally getting to the heart of the issue.

Janai held up her hands harmlessly. “I was still walking over from the guest house. I got here just in time to take the juice tray. What else did I miss? Does anyone need a good smackdown? I will smack either one of you if you think it’ll help.”

Runaan opened his mouth.

Janai slid a protective arm in front of her wife. “Amaya is off limits.”

Runaan closed his mouth again.

Janai’s grin was conspiratorial, as if she and Runaan had been on the same side all along despite their quibbling. She could easily have teased Runaan harder, but the way she acted toward her—friend? Her landlord?—told Ethari that they probably got along really well. And that thought made him really happy, and really curious.

Janai winked and scooped up Amaya’s hand. “Well, if no one needs me, I’ll take my wife out for supper and we’ll leave you two to the date you completely forgot to tell us you were having.” She turned and led Amaya back into the kitchen. Ethari could hear them giggling as they went.

His gut signaled hard, and he made a point of listening to it when it did that. He squeezed Runaan’s hand as the women left. “I know we were super in the middle of something, so I’ll leave this completely up to you, but… I like them, and they’re a part of your life. Can they stay and hang out, for just a bit? Is that weird?”

Runaan searched his face for a long moment. Then he blinked and looked down, nodding to himself about something Ethari couldn’t quite fathom. With a soft, self-conscious grin, Runaan met his eyes again, left a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, and murmured, “You’re adorable.”

Then he called after his departing friends. “Wait.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date Night Part Two! 
> 
> Janai and Amaya stay for a while and double date shenanigans ensue. And also angst, and then whump... It's a whole ride this time.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” Janai hollered.

“Oh, you can try,” Ethari shot back.

The two of them threw each other challenging glares and _bring-it_ gestures from their respective couches, set across the room from a massive screen that showed four characters suited up in Vikingpunk gear in a jewel-toned world full of creepy but beautiful magic. And undead. _Lots_ of undead. Meanwhile, Janai and Ethari’s more focused partners were actually paying attention to the game, having their characters lever open the heavy portcullis to the zombie-ridden castle that was the next area in their game.

“You two gonna trash talk all night or actually help us clear out this nest?” Runaan grumbled, eyes locked on the screen. “Hands on the controller, Ethari.”

Ethari immediately stopped gesturing at Janai and started sliding his hands across Runaan’s chest. “Mmmm, I thought you’d never ask!”

“What—Ethari, don’t distract me, I’m getting swarmed!” Runaan protested faintly, struggling to keep his eyes on the screen over Ethari’s shoulder. He squirmed away from a couple spots that seemed sensitive, so Ethari concentrated on stroking his pecs and shoulders, and was rewarded with some soft gasps through Runaan’s gritted teeth.

Janai cackled and signed to Amaya, and they helpfully slaughtered all the zombies that were swarming Runaan’s barbarian on the screen. “Don’t let a few zombies get in the way of a good time,” Janai teased. “We’ll be your winglesbians, Ethari.”

Ethari turned on the couch and lay down with his head on Runaan’s thigh again, taking up his controller. “They’re our _winglesbians_ , Runaan. We can’t _not_ let them help.”

Runaan tsked, keeping his eyes on the screen. But his chest was heaving for breath, and he was blushing, too. “Yes, well done, team, looks like we lived yet again.”

Janai’s voice took on a more personal tone as she said, “Runaan, you know we’ll always have your back.”

Runaan didn’t reply, but he studied her for a moment and gave her a serious nod.

After the castle had been liberated, the group shepherded the fondue table through a migration to the family room while a new game map was loading, and Ethari made sure that everyone got plenty of practice with the right way to eat pretzels dipped in chocolate. Amaya and Janai silently argued over the best way to dip a cherry and ended up losing it in the chocolate, prompting a stabby hunt that Amaya won. Janai nearly wheezed herself to death at Amaya’s signing after she held up her dripping prize, and Runaan categorically refused to tell Ethari what she’d said.

Runaan blushed heavily when Ethari offered him another bite like the one they’d been caught making out after, but Ethari grinned innocently this time and just interlaced their fingers, giving Runaan’s hand a squeeze. Runaan opened up and let Ethari feed him, and he seemed to shiver with the memory of the first bite back on the hammock. Ethari just winked at him saucily.

In response, Runaan fed Ethari a ripe, chocolate-dipped strawberry from his fingers. Ethari nommed off the pointy end and hummed happily at the heady mix of flavors. Runaan took his vest by the front and pulled him into a sudden kiss, and the flavors of soft pretzel and strawberry mixed, salty and sweet, layered deliciously with the deep rich velvety chocolate.

Ethari whimpered and started to pull Runaan down on top of him on the couch. A grape bounced off his nose, and Amaya jabbed a finger at the screen.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Ethari scrambled for his controller. Runaan scooped his up as if he hadn’t just been making out with his new boyfriend, and he lay lengthwise along the couch with his legs draped across Ethari’s lap.

Ethari dragged his gaze from those long, long legs and that artfully rumpled ponytail spilling across those sculpted shoulders. It physically hurt _not_ to look at Runaan, he was so dazzlingly delicious. Gritting his teeth, Ethari frantically slammed his buttons as the initial zombie wave rushed them. “Who’s distracting who again?” he blurted.

Runaan was all grace and relaxation as his barbarian swung her battlehammer with fierce warrior cries. “Oh, am I distracting you? Terribly sorry.” He bent one knee until his bare foot rested atop Ethari’s thigh, and then he began rolling it in circles, kneading with his toes. His eyes never left the screen, and Ethari flushed hot at the thought that Runaan had somehow already memorized every inch of him.

Ethari tried to trap the distracting foot with his other leg, but that only made Runaan’s toes quest a little higher. Ethari arched his back and tried to stifle a yelp. “Help!” he called. “I’m being sabotaged from inside my own team!”

Amaya and Janai looked over and began signing quickly. But their plan didn’t seem to involve Ethari at all. They tumbled onto their own couch and started kissing, abandoning their own characters to their fate.

“What is happening?” Ethari begged, writhing helplessly against Runaan’s foot. “So much for my winglesbians! I’m giving you zero stars on Yelp!”

“Oh no, Ethari,” Runaan purred. “They’re _definitely_ helping.” He relentlessly teased Ethari with his foot, clearly enjoying his panicked yelps as Ethari’s character darted around the screen, dragging groaning zombies behind him like a magnet, unable to fight them all off on his own.

Everyone’s characters died soon afterward and they had to restart. Ethari threw his controller onto the low table between the couches and scrambled to a marginally safe distance, where he draped himself over the arm of the couch and panted for breath. “I need comfort food after that terrible betrayal. Is it cool if I raid your kitchen?”

Janai perked right up and nudged Amaya. “Did someone say _raid the kitchen_?”

Amaya’s tummy growled, and she looked at Janai as if to ask, _Did you hear that one?_ Janai laughed and pretended to be blown back by the shock wave of her wife’s hunger.

Runaan got to his feet, but he walked the long way around the couch, trailing his fingers firmly up the back of Ethari’s leg, then over the curve of his buttocks and up along his back. “Did someone say _distracting_?” he murmured under his breath.

Ethari’s head popped up from where it was dangling off the couch arm. “Wh—” He blushingly looked back at himself, laid out like a feast along Runaan’s couch, and melted onto the floor in embarrassment. _I just can’t stop, can I? I physically cannot stop being like this._

“Mission tasks, then,” Runaan said, raising his voice and signing so everyone could understand him. “Janai, you’ve got knife duty. Amaya, you’re Janai’s backup. Ethari…” He looked down at his date, puddled and flushed on the floor at his feet. “You can do whatever you want in my kitchen. I’ve got your back.”

He signed that last part, too, and it sent Amaya and Janai into cackles. The ladies helped Ethari up and guided him to the kitchen, all following Runaan. The way they held onto each other’s arms behind his back, softly caressing each other, completely distracted him from his embarrassment and put a fresh glow of softness in his heart.

Ethari banged around Runaan’s kitchen, mercilessly opening all his cupboards and drawers just to be a bit nosy, and started popping a huge bowl of kettle corn. Janai sliced up a platter of crudité while Amaya whipped up a thick spinach dip. Runaan seemed a little lost, so he trailed Ethari like an adorable puppy, watching him intently.

“How are you doing?” Runaan murmured as Ethari spun the giant silver bowl beneath the popcorn maker’s wide spout. His hand came to rest on Ethari’s waist.

Ethari leaned into the gentle contact. “This evening is a blast, Runaan. I haven’t had this much fun in _ages_. I love your friends!”

The way his eyes widened, Runaan hadn’t been expecting such an enthusiastic response. “Alright, good. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Ethari picked up on a hesitant thread in Runaan’s tone. He turned away from the popcorn maker and set his hands on Runaan’s waist, looking him in the eye. “Hey, look, I’m loud and boisterous when I’m having fun, but I haven’t forgotten that this was supposed to be a date. Don’t let me call any shots you’re not comfortable with.”

“Is that who you think I am? Someone afraid to call the shots in his own house?” Runaan murmured. His fingers tightened against Ethari’s side. One corner of his mouth twitched into a brief smirk, and he lowered his chin.

Ethari sucked in a desperate breath.

_Oh god, oh fuck, not again—_

The Power Look swept across Ethari like a prairie fire, sucking air from his lungs, shooting tingles up his spine, and making his knees wobble. “Hhhharggle,” he blurted, falling against Runaan’s chest, clinging tightly to his waist for support. He let his head rest atop Runaan’s shoulder for support, but it wasn’t enough, because now Runaan’s hands were on his hips, and he was humming inquiringly in a voice as rich as chocolate fondue.

Ethari hid a giggle in Runaan’s zippered lapel and slithered helplessly to his knees, fingers clinging to Runaan’s belt loops for support. He landed a little hard on the kitchen floor and grinned saucily, finding his boyfriend’s face hovering above him with all traces of the Power Look swept away, replaced by faint shock.

Ethari smirked and slid his fingers along the inside of Runaan’s waistband. Licked his bottom lip.

“Ethari! You’re spilling!”

Ethari’s first reaction to Janai’s call was to look _down_ , not up, so when he remembered he had popcorn to watch, he shot to his feet in an undignified, blushing scramble that sent Runaan wheezing and leaning on the counter for support.

Ethari steadied the bowl with both hands and shook its contents back down evenly, then he scooped the spilled puffs off the counter and dumped them back in the bowl, eating two or three for good measure.

Runaan laughingly pressed him against the counter from behind and leaned in next to his ear, circling his arms around him for a comforting hug. His level of interest was very firm. “You are a delicious man, Ethari.”

Still blushing hard, Ethari chuckled and fed Runaan a kernel over his shoulder. “Eat up, then.”

Runaan lipped the kettle corn from Ethari’s fingertips and sucked on his finger lightly for extra flavor. “I’m grasping the appeal of salty-sweet now. You’re an excellent pitch man, too.”

Ethari turned in the circle of Runaan’s arms and felt the counter top press against the upper curve of his backside. “I try only to use my powers of persuasion for Good.”

Runaan placed his hands on the counter beside Ethari’s waist, in a deliberate mirror of how he’d leaned over him at the eyeglass shop on his second visit. “Well,” he murmured as he leaned in, “maybe I’ll manage to persuade you to be a little naughty. You know. To balance it out.”

“Balance is good.” Ethari leaned back to match his pose. His breath shallowed out and his eyes widened as he immediately tried to guess what kinds of things Runaan had in mind. Before he could find a clever way to ask, though, Amaya tapped their shoulders with a pair of carrot sticks and used them like airport hand beacons to direct them back to the family room.

Chaos ensued for the next hour. Ethari offered the wine he’d brought, and Amaya and Janai had a couple of glasses each, but true to his word, Runaan passed. Ethari ended up having half a glass and then spilling it during an ill-advised leap off the coffee table to infiltrate the other couch. The ladies took him prisoner, and his popcorn became shelling ammunition.

Ethari watched in awe as Runaan stood on his couch and used his and Ethari’s controllers to bat away incoming popcorn kernels for over a minute straight, never letting a single one land on the leather cushions. Ethari got exchanged back to Runaan for the whole bowl of kettle corn, but as Runaan and Amaya reached out to change possession of the popcorn, Ethari leaped onto the low table between the couches, took a double handful of ransom popcorn from its bowl, and bounded over to Runaan’s couch with his stolen prize, narrowly escaping a rain of celery arrows from Janai’s platter.

“Ethari, you’re going to start a war with our own winglesbians!” Runaan protested laughingly.

“Maybe,” Ethari said, grinning over his popcorn. “Worth it, though.”

Runaan gave him a lovingly exasperated once-over. Then he sighed, took a single kernel from Ethari’s stolen hoard, and fed it to him. “You’re adorable.”

Ethari sucked lightly on the pad of Runaan’s thumb, tasting salt and sweet. “Fmm’mm agmm,” he said around the tasty digit.

“What?” Runaan rescued his thumb.

“Feed me again. I like it when you feed me.”

Runaan’s gaze found Ethari’s neck. “It’s all nibbles with you, isn’t it?” he said smilingly.

“Not _all_ nibbles.” Ethari opened up for another piece of popcorn, and he nipped Runaan’s finger lightly. “But mostly.”

“Amaya,” Janai said loudly. “Darling. _Ma petite chou_. Wife. Is that the time?”

Amaya’s hands flew, but her smirk was firmly in place. The women chuckled, and Runaan pinked. Ethari recognized a couple of her signs, and he was kind of glad he didn’t know the rest or he’d be as flushed as Runaan.

“ _Au revoir_ , Ethari.” Janai crossed to their couch and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. “I hope we see more of you.”

Amaya offered him a fist bump, which he returned. Then she smirked at him and began to sign something distinctly naughty. Janai immediately clapped her hands around her wife’s and laughed. “No, not _that_ much more! You already got an eyeful tonight, _Cherie_! Anyway. Have a lovely evening, you two. Runaan, we will see you tomorrow.”

The women left hand in hand, and Ethari watched them go, playfully tickling at each other and stealing kisses until they were out in the foyer again. He sighed wistfully. They were clearly in love, and so obviously a great match.

He felt a thick wave of tiredness wash over him and blinked it away rapidly. He really should get some more coffee or something.

Runaan sat next to him on the leather couch. “Want to keep playing? I can make it interesting.”

Ethari grinned. “It was already interesting.”

“Then you’ll really like this next bit,” Runaan said promptly. “First one to fifty kills makes the other take something off. Last one with clothes on calls the shots.”

Ethari perked right up. His eyes roamed down Runaan’s person. “Are we counting socks as one item or two?”

“You’ve played this game before,” Runaan observed smilingly.

“I say one,” Ethari proposed. “It’s one pair, so they should come off as a pair.”

Runaan leaned his shoulder against Ethari’s. “I find your logic flawless. Ready? Suit up.” He selected a two-player cooperative game and hit start before Ethari could even snatch his controller.

Runaan had five kills before Ethari was even loaded in, but Ethari had already decided on a winning tactic. Very slowly, he scooched toward Runaan on the couch, keeping his eyes on the screen. As his rogue waded through mobs of sticky green zombies with his spinblade swinging, Ethari hitched one leg up across Runaan’s lap.

“I’m not distracting you, am I?” Ethari said without looking away from the game.

“Nope.” Runaan was all focus as his barbarian smashed her way through one mob of undead and leaped toward the next.

 _Hmmm_. Ethari scooted even closer, until he was halfway in Runaan’s lap and his shoulder blocked Runaan’s. “How about now?”

Runaan tsked, readjusted his arm, and leaned around him so he could still see the screen, thumbs tapping wildly at his buttons. “I see how it is.”

Ethari chuckled and plopped himself right onto Runaan’s lap. “Oh good. I was worried I was being too subtle.”

Runaan yelped and wrapped his arms around Ethari’s waist, holding his controller just below Ethari’s. He peeked around Ethari’s burly shoulder on one side, then the other, trying to keep up his kill count lead. But Ethari just chuckled and leaned into the way as if casually stretching. Then he leaned back and relaxed against the couch, pinning Runaan behind him.

“Hey— _mmph_!” Runaan’s hands finally surrendered the controller and started tugging at Ethari’s vest, trying to move him.

Ethari just laughed, slaughtering the last few zombies he needed to reach fifty. “Oh, how about that, I won. Guess you owe me a piece of clothing. Runaan? Where’d you go?” He pretended to search around the couch. “Oh, hey, what’re you doing back there?” He scooted off Runaan’s lap with an exaggerated move of surprise.

“Plotting my revenge,” Runaan said with a friendly squint. “Just for that, I’m taking off my socks.”

“You’re not wearing any socks.”

Runaan’s squint deepened. “I will go _get_ some socks and put them _on_ , just so I can take them back _off_.”

Ethari’s eyes widened. “Now that’s an impressive level of petty. Can I come along?”

Runaan’s stern façade broke. “For what?”

“To see where you keep your socks, of course!” Ethari teased.

Runaan pursed his lips thoughtfully for a long moment. A low heat sparked in his eyes, and his smile was cool. “You want to cheat? Let’s cheat.” He stood up and tugged open the button fly on his black jeans. He slithered out of them, balancing easily on each foot, until he dropped them in a faded black denim puddle on the floor.

Ethari’s eyes widened all the way at the sight of Runaan’s tightly muscled ass encased in a thin strip of black bikini underwear. It shouldn’t have been possible, but Runaan’s legs seemed even longer now that they were free of his jeans. _Oxygen… need oxygen_ … Ethari barely had time to suck in a quick breath before Runaan turned to him, scooped up his controller again, and settled right into Ethari’s lap, straddling him and pinning him onto the couch.

“I, I, what is _happening_ …?” Ethari blurted, feeling the firmness of Runaan’s interest press against his abdomen.

“I’m cheating, of course.” Runaan nuzzled against his ear as he wrapped his arms around Ethari and held his controller behind his back. “Next fifty kills and something else comes off.” His hands started working the controller expertly as if he weren’t nibbling on Ethari’s earlobe—and facing completely the wrong way.

“ _Aaahh_ , how are you even _playing_?” Ethari yelped. He shivered and twitched, falling back against the overstuffed leather couch with Runaan right on top of him. His fingers fumbled madly for his controller’s buttons, missing half of them.

“I can sense my target,” Runaan breathed. His hands worked his controller in the little space behind Ethari’s back, while his teeth worked along Ethari’s soft skin.

Ethari writhed under Runaan’s hips, gasping helplessly at all his delicious nibbles. When Runaan nudged Ethari’s chin up so he could drop kisses down to the hollow of his throat, Ethari didn’t protest losing sight of the screen at _all_. His head was spinning, and he’d stopped playing, clinging enthusiastically to Runaan’s buttocks while only coincidentally still holding the controller.

Runaan rocked his hips against Ethari’s. “Are we there yet?”

“Oh god, _yes_ , yes we are,” Ethari blurted.

“Fifty kills?” came Runaan’s velvety voice.

Ethari would go kill fifty actual people just to keep hearing that murmur in his ear. “Probably,” he gasped. “Someone got in between me and the screen, though…”

With a chuckle that shook deep in his chest, Runaan pulled back and turned to look behind him.

Ethari instinctively steadied Runaan’s hips as he moved, though Runaan’s balance was impeccable. Looking up from where he’d fallen back into the couch, he drank in Runaan’s slender, toned figure as the man turned away and showed him that crisp jawline and that long, pretty ponytail. Ethari could not believe how lucky he was. This gorgeous man, perched on his lap—in his underwear, no less—letting Ethari get so close to him, to revel in spending this time with him… Ethari’s vision split several different ways, and in each of them, Runaan smiled and touched him, moving with him, laughing with him, holding him close. To his surprise, Ethari felt a film of tears in his eyes. _What even is happening right now…_

“Fifty-three for me, twelve for you,” Runaan reported. “Guess you owe me a piece of clothing.”

Ethari dropped his controller and reached for the fastenings on his vest. He _could_ copy Runaan’s move, but he was hoping for something a little more interactive first. “Help me loosen the laces.”

Runaan’s eyes widened. “Gladly.” He arched over Ethari, leaning his right hand on the couch and using his left to pluck at the dark laces that ran up the back of Ethari’s vest.

He leaned so close that Ethari couldn’t help but tilt his head and press a kiss against the hollow of Runaan’s throat, between his zipper-edged lapels.

Runaan rolled his hips and jerked harder on Ethari’s laces. Ethari gasped and chuckled against his skin, sliding his hands up along Runaan’s ribs. “You think you’re going to win this, don’t you. But you’ve only got two pieces of clothes left. I think I can take you.”

“Maybe I like a challenge.” Runaan’s voice was delightfully growly against Ethari’s ear.

Everything was going delightfully hazy. As soon as Runaan loosened the laces enough, Ethari unhooked his vest and began to peel it off.

Runaan didn’t give him any extra room to do it, though, hovering over him watchfully. He let his fingers brush playfully across Ethari’s chest as Ethari laughingly struggled out of his vest, still pinned against the couch. “Looks like you’re stuck,” Runaan murmured. “Need any help there?”

Ethari looked up at him with his arms half trapped behind him, wrapped in the purple fabric of his vest, and panted for air. “I definitely need help. But I also feel like I could just stay here forever and look up at you and die happy.”

“Did you just bring the Hallmark Channel to a zombie fight?” Runaan shifted in Ethari’s lap and pulled him up from the back of the couch, wrapping his legs around Ethari’s buttocks to support him. He made a very slow striptease out of helping Ethari out of his vest, dropping toothy nibbles on Ethari’s firm shoulders, pressing a hand against the small of Ethari’s back and pulling him close. Ethari’s feet were bouncing and kicking with desperate energy by the time his vest ended up on the floor atop Runaan’s jeans.

Then Runaan picked up his controller. “Again.”

Dazzled and breathless, Ethari leaned forward, bracing an arm around Runaan’s hips and trying to breathe normally as he fumbled for his dropped controller. “I think I’m already one of the zombies,” he muttered without thinking.

“Maybe if I bite you, you’ll turn back into a human,” Runaan purred.

“You already bit me,” Ethari reminded him sassily.

“Not tonight, I haven’t. Ready? Go!”

“Aah, I am _not_ ready! _Not ready_!” Ethari spluttered. He grabbed the controller by one edge, but that hazy goodness was back, edging his eyes. Between that and Runaan’s merciless nibbles and hip grinding, he was an entire mess of desperate breathless swearing and twitching, holding on tight to Runaan more than he was playing. He didn’t even realize he was holding his controller upside down for over a minute.

He lost again, two deliciously delirious minutes later.

“Blowing up a bunker stuffed with zombies I didn’t know were in there smells like cheating,” he complained as he tried to catch his breath. He took Runaan’s zipper pull between a finger and a thumb and pouted. “I was so close…”

Runaan grasped his wrist with surprising firmness. “You really weren’t. This is my victory. Let me savor it. And by _it_ , I mean…” Runaan turned Ethari and pressed him down onto the couch with a long, scorching kiss. Ethari fell back against the warm leather amid a cloud of bliss, feeling Runaan softly invade his mouth, welcoming his new French-kissing overlord. “There you go. Just like that,” Runaan murmured. He began to trail kisses down Ethari’s jaw and neck.

Ethari let out a soft, helpless gasp and let Runaan work over his bare skin. Long, strong fingers caressed him, pressed into the pads of his pecs, traced his ribs, his abs. Helpless little moans fell from his mouth as Runaan kissed his way down Ethari’s chest amid a light flurry of touches. His fingers plucked at Runaan’s shoulders, brushed the backs of his hands as they caressed him… _God_ , Runaan was good at touching. His hands were soothing and arousing at the same time… Ethari had never felt anything quite like it. He could lie here forever…

Sunlight dappled across the warm picnic blanket Ethari lay sprawled on. Somewhere, a stream burbled. Of course he’d taken Runaan to the back forty at his parents’ place. It was perfect there.

“Some secrets are worth keeping,” Runaan murmured. His hands tugged on Ethari’s belt, loosening it. “They’re not safe.”

“Maybe I don’t want safe.” Ethari reached up and unzipped Runaan’s shirt. The bright silver zipper parted, and a black dagger shot out of his heart and stabbed Ethari in his. Ethari fell back onto the blanket again and gasped with the icy shock of it. “Runaan… I… didn’t realize you’d be the death of me…”

Runaan leaned over him and looked down at him sorrowfully. “I tried to tell you...”

“I did it wrong again, didn’t I?” Ethari murmured.

“Ethari? Ethari.” Runaan shook him awake.

Ethari stiffened and froze, wide-eyed, feeling a horrible panic set in. Had he just _fallen asleep_ in the middle of the most action he’d had in months? “ _Shit_. Oh my _god—_ ”

Runaan slipped his fingers from the waistband of Ethari’s jeans, and his date loomed over him with a considering pout. His pose was far too similar to the brief dream Ethari’d just had. “I’m not boring you, am I?”

Ethari gasped and stammered, “Oh, god, I am _so sorry_ , I’m just—”

Runaan took him by the jaw and gently but firmly turned his face toward the light, studying his pupils. “You on something?”

Ethari hated the cool suspicion in Runaan’s voice. Hated the immediate distance it created. “No, nothing like that. I was just… I was…” Suddenly he felt completely foolish. Childish, even, for staying up all night making a gift like some overeager college kid. “How long was I out?”

Runaan’s face ran through several intense emotions before settling on a resigned mask. “Doesn’t matter. My fault.”

Long enough to make things really awkward, apparently. Ethari scrambled into a sitting position in front of Runaan, who settled back into kneeling on the couch. “How can it be _your_ fault?” Ethari asked. “ _I’m_ the one who stayed up all night. I’ve been mainlining energy drinks all day. Even before you called. But definitely afterward, too. Just… just get me some coffee and I’ll be okay.”

Runaan took a slow breath, and Ethari saw him retreat into himself again, just like he had when Runaan’s team member had knocked on Ethari’s car window door, interrupting their first kiss. _No, don’t go, don’t pull away—_

“Shake test.”

Ethari blinked sleepily. “What?”

Runaan reached over to the side table and slid his glasses into place. Then he settled back onto the couch with his legs folded in front of him. “Shake test. If you can catch my glasses like you did that first time, I’ll get you a coffee and we can continue.”

“That seems counterintuitive,” Ethari grumbled.

“Ethari. You fell asleep while I was tearing off your clothes.”

Ethari’s cheeks went hot, and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “That, uh. When you put it that way…”

Runaan’s eyes wandered across Ethari’s bare chest as he flexed into that embarrassed gesture, but he snapped his gaze back up to Ethari’s face. Despite the deep flush that still graced his cheeks, he said, “There’s a difference between being insanely comfortable and being sleep-deprived. It’s important to me to know which state you’re in.”

“…Oh. Yeah, okay.” Ethari scrubbed at his eyes and took a deep breath before shaking his fingers loose, warming them up.

“You tell me when,” Runaan offered softly.

Ethari mirrored Runaan’s pose, and Runaan let his fingers caress Ethari’s knees.

“Is this really necessary?” Ethari pushed. “I’m fine! I’m a little overtired, but _god_ , Runaan, I came over because I want to—”

“Say when, Ethari.” Runaan’s tone brooked no argument.

Ethari shut his eyes and berated himself up one side and down the other. _Fuck fuck fuck, this is my fault, I screwed up big time, should’ve just popped one more Monster before I headed over here…_ He sighed, mustering his focus. “Okay, go.”

Runaan’s glasses cartwheeled across the carpet before Ethari could even twitch. One beat of perfect stillness ricocheted between them. Then, without a word, Runaan got up and fetched them, folding them carefully and setting them back on the side table. Then he hopped back into his black jeans with a single smooth motion and buttoned up. He sat on the couch again, a little further from Ethari, still not having said a word.

Ethari felt his heart sink. He studied his own crossed ankles on the couch. _Well, I got fucked tonight, alright. But I fucked myself. That’s always way less fun._

“How long since you slept?” Runaan asked quietly. His tone sounded too calm. Clinical.

“Night before last,” Ethari murmured, eyes still on his feet.

Runaan’s voice kept its distance. “You usually blow your weekends like this?”

“No, Runaan, it’s not like that—”

“I’ve seen what not taking care of yourself looks like,” Runaan interrupted. “When your priorities shift too far from your own needs in favor of others’. If you don’t respect yourself as a physical being, Ethari, you only end up hurting yourself. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want what that will turn you into.”

Ethari blinked. Runaan sounded like he was referring to a specific incident, or time frame, where someone else had made some really bad choices. It also sounded like that time in Runaan’s life had left quite a mark. But that wasn’t Ethari. He needed to say something before Runaan made any more assumptions that came between them. Even if it meant ruining the surprise.

Ethari raised his eyes to Runaan’s with a soft, pleading look, begging Runaan to give him a chance to explain. “I was at my parents’ place. I wasn’t lying about that. My dad has a big shop out back, and now that he’s retired, we hang out and make stuff sometimes. We can get carried away and stay up too late. But you said you were going to be working all weekend, so I didn’t think it mattered. And I was… I stayed up because…”

_Shit, just get the box._

Riding a sudden adrenaline surge, Ethari vaulted off the couch and steadied himself as he headed out to the foyer. He spun Runaan’s lazy Susan coat rack around and pulled his coat down. Then he fished the gift box from his coat pocket. When he turned around to head back to the family room, he saw that Runaan had followed him. The white-haired man stood barefoot in his foyer, arms wrapped around his waist, eyes soft and urgent.

Ethari tapped the square box against his palm. “I stayed up all night because I was making you this.”

Runaan’s eyes dropped to the box wrapped in turquoise ribbon, and his entire body language changed. He pressed a fist to his mouth in chagrin. “… _Oh_ …”

“I was going to surprise you…” Ethari began lamely.

Runaan strode across the room and gently clasped Ethari’s wrists. “I… I thought you were walking out just now, and I…”

Ethari leaned close, tired and hurt and confused, but mostly just craving contact. “And you followed me? Even after what you said?”

Runaan’s eyes closed sharply, hiding some deep pain. “I didn’t want to be right.”

Ethari’s heart blossomed back open, and he smiled softly. “You weren’t. But you kind of were, too. I should’ve taken better care of myself. I just get so excited about new projects…”

Runaan took Ethari’s head in his hands and pressed their foreheads together with a deeply relieved sigh, followed by a warm kiss that told Ethari all was water under the bridge. “Well, that’s a mood, as my god-daughter would say. Is it okay if I don’t open it right now? We’re kind of in a low moment, and you worked really hard on this.”

Ethari brightened a little. “It’ll keep, yeah. I’m sorry I worried you. I’m not like… whoever you were thinking of. But I should’ve told you the truth. I really didn’t want to mess this evening up, but ta-da, here’s my special talent.”

“No, no, no,” Runaan breathed. He pulled Ethari into a gentle hug. “It was my fault. I pushed too hard. Gave you an ultimatum you didn’t _want_ to refuse. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

Ethari nodded against Runaan’s hair. “It wasn’t. But you couldn’t have known the state I was in, because I kept it to myself. Guess we both fucked up a little, huh?”

“Too much, or not enough?” Runaan murmured smilingly.

Ethari burst into laughter in his arms.

“Ethari…” Runaan’s voice became hesitant, and his fingers flexed needily against Ethari’s back. “Please, don’t go…”

Ethari felt his brows lift in puzzlement. His embarrassment, and its ensuing adrenaline spike, were wearing off, leaving him fuzzily tired again, unable to track the subtleties of Runaan’s words. “What are you asking me, Runaan?”

“Sleep here tonight. Just sleep,” he added quickly. “I’ve no intention of taking advantage of your sleep-deprived state. You might as well be drunk, and that’s not how I want things to go between us. But I want to take care of you anyway. I… I want you to feel safe here. With me.”

Ethari mulled that over. He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to do next, but driving home in his state would probably be legitimately dangerous. “Okay,” he said slowly.

“Yeah?” Runaan sounded supremely relieved. He clasped Ethari’s shoulder, lifted his chin with one finger, and studied his face closely.

Ethari smiled, blissful and exhausted. “Yeah. Tuck me in somewhere. Maybe get me a glass of warm milk. Or a cup of sugar. Whichever one means flirting.”

Runaan let out a soft chuckle. “I think that’s the ‘tuck me in’ part.”

Ethari nuzzled his neck with soft, happy kisses. “I know where I _want_ to get tucked.”

Runaan chuckled softly. “See? This is what I’m talking about.”

“Mmmm. It’s what _I’m_ talking about, too.” Ethari tried to nuzzle close again, but Runaan turned and draped Ethari’s arms over his shoulders in a loose hug.

“You have terrible judgment right now,” Runaan protested softly.

“In impulse control. Not in men,” Ethari corrected, in as serious a voice as he could muster.

“Come with me—” Runaan began fondly.

“I was _trying_ to,” Ethari interrupted, attempting to smooch Runaan’s ear as they walked toward the hallway. It took him three tries, but he made it, planting a loud smack there.

Runaan broke into helpless chuckles at his pun. “I should’ve known you’d be a happy drunk.”

“Hey now,” Ethari murmured sleepily as Runaan towed him down the hallway. “If you want to know what kind of drunk I am, you need to _actually_ get me drunk first.”

Runaan’s voice was soft as he replied, “I’ll add that to the list.”

***

Runaan lent Ethari a pair of soft shorts to change into and peeled back the sheets on one side of his bed to distract himself from a _fantastic_ set of mental visuals while Ethari changed in the ensuite bathroom. His sleepy boyfriend staggered out a couple of minutes later, sporting only the soft pair of lavender shorts and rubbing the heel of one palm against his eye in adorable fashion. Runaan couldn’t help but hold out his hand, and his heart raced at how quickly Ethari took it. His eyes roamed eagerly across all of Ethari’s soft skin.

“Socks are over there,” he said, pointing.

“What?”

“You wanted to know where I keep my socks. They’re over there. Top drawer.”

“Mmm,” Ethari said, letting out a minty fresh sigh that told Runaan he’d helped himself to his date’s toothbrush. “Just you wait. I’m gonna get all your secrets out of you.”

“I… I’d like that, I think,” Runaan confessed, feeling more than a little vulnerable.

“And then protect them with my life.”

“Well, that might be a bit much.” He tugged Ethari toward the bed and eased him down onto the cool sheets.

“Says the former bodyguard. Goodnight kiss?” Ethari mumbled hopefully, fingers tight in Runaan’s green shirt, pulling Runaan down onto him.

Runaan grinned and tried to avoid landing too hard atop Ethari’s chest as he straddled him. He’d missed his daily appointment with Amaya this evening, and he wasn’t quite sure how that would affect him yet. He found Ethari’s lips with his own and pressed a soft nibbly kiss against them. “Just one,” he murmured, mid-kiss.

The kiss drew out, and Ethari’s arms slid around his shoulders. “If we never let our lips separate,” Ethari murmured against him, “then it’s still the same kiss.”

“Mmm, flawless logic,” Runaan murmured back.

“Did you dream of me?”

Runaan broke the kiss in surprise. “What?”

“Last night. I know I’m fuzzy on a lot of stuff, but I definitely remember saying you had to tell me your dream if you dreamed of me. Did you?”

Runaan’s heart melted at the gentle vulnerability in Ethari’s voice. He smoothed the man’s hair back from his forehead and waited until he could trust his voice. “Yes. I did.”

“How did it go?”

Runaan ran his fingers through Ethari’s hair some more. _It’s not a lie,_ he told himself. _I’m protecting him._ “We were in the mountains. It was sunny. Perfect tourist weather. We watched a movie together, just you and me. And then I brought you home with me, and we talked and had fondue.”

“That sounds amazing. I’m so sorry about staying up all night,” Ethari said again. “Can we pretend I slept? Wanna stay up longer with you. Talking and having fondue.” His hips shook beneath Runaan as he chuckled softly.

Runaan pressed his hips against Ethari’s in reassurance that his interest hadn’t waned. “Get some sleep. If you wake up before I have to go to work, then we can, uhm, negotiate terms.”

“I’m a pretty good negotiator,” Ethari said, even as his eyes fluttered shut. “Let me keep talking, and I’ll have the shirt right off your back…” His breathing evened out, and the hand he’d tucked into Runaan’s hair relaxed.

Runaan stared down at Ethari’s peaceful, adorably handsome face. “I hope you will,” he whispered. It had been a lot easier to hold back and respect Ethari’s dubious ability to consent because of his own nerves regarding letting Ethari see his scars. He had no idea how Ethari would react to them while wide awake, let alone in a haze of sleep deprivation. _It’s the right move. Maybe for the wrong reasons. But I’m not going anywhere near sleep-deprived dubious consent._ _Not after…_ His side panged sharply as his mind veered away from completing that thought, and Runaan winced. That single kiss three years ago had become a curse worse than death.

 _Stop_ , he ordered himself. _You’re here now, you desperate fool. With Ethari. A soft and gentle soul who stayed up all night making you a gift. It’s not the same. Not at all._

Runaan slid to the side as gently as he could, tucking himself against Ethari and resting his head atop Ethari’s shoulder. Ethari’s heart thrummed near his ear, and his slow breaths lifted Runaan’s draped arm like a soft bellows.

The red alert status that occupied every moment of his waking hours began to fade to a nice amber glow, soothing in its relative relaxation. It felt as if Ethari was giving off safe-house vibes, and Runaan had never wanted to shelter in place more in his life.

 _God help me_ , Runaan thought as he, too, began to drift off, caught in the peaceful eddies of Ethari’s deeply relaxing sleep. _I could get used to this._

***

The dream always began with that horrible falling sensation. The certain knowledge that their plane was going down. It never mattered why, and sometimes the reason changed. Suicide, sabotage, Runaan’s own failure to save the pilot. It never mattered. The highlands of Italy welcomed the Gulfstream’s gleaming white body among their trees no matter what.

Always the yelling, though sometimes the language changed. And always the pain, though in his dream it was color-coded: blue for bruises, red for blood, or purple for the parts of him they’d take. The screams and the tears as Runaan’s charge begged for mercy, cradling his bodyguard’s damaged body in his arms.

They always dragged him away anyway.

Runaan’s coping mechanism kicked in, and he changed the dream to a movie. It was a movie he couldn’t stop watching, but at least he wasn’t the star anymore. “Couldn’t pay me enough,” he muttered to no one.

It played through the worst parts like that, details changing and flickering over those first two days. Runaan’s gut twisted as he realized the big finale was coming up.

“Can I watch with you?” a low voice suddenly interrupted.

Runaan twitched around in the smoky theater. Ethari stood at the door, looking uncertain. He held a big bucket for popcorn, but it was empty. He wouldn’t snack during this movie. Not even with popcorn missile weapons like they’d used earlier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Runaan blurted. He rose and hurried up the aisle, reaching for Ethari. Panic and shame flared in his veins like familiar overdoses.

His last step landed just in front of Ethari, and the theater became the greenhouse room in his own home. Ethari clutched the fondue pot now, its chocolate cold and thick. “Is this where you want me?” he asked Runaan.

“I want you wherever you are,” Runaan confessed. “But…” His hands flexed into fists, and he lowered them to his sides.

Ethari waited quietly. But Runaan couldn’t bring himself to confess his deepest fears. “Okay, I’ll say it for you,” Ethari finally said. He pushed the cold fondue pot into Runaan’s arms. “You started something you can’t finish. You got greedy. You forgot I’m a person. Or maybe you just didn’t care.”

Runaan clung to the fondue pot, wrapping his arms around it. “Ethari, you’re so real to me it scares me. I didn’t want to push you tonight because you were—”

“Because you didn’t see _me_ at all. You saw _him_.” Ethari’s eyes were cold copper. “You call yourself respectable, honorable. But you’re just manipulating me to get what you want. You’re not _sharing_ this happiness _with_ me. You’re _stealing_ it _from_ me. You have no right to anything I offer if you won’t tell me the truth. You don’t deserve it, and you don’t deserve _me_.”

Runaan’s heart imploded and twisted, sending black shards of agony through him. He fell to his knees as Ethari turned and walked right out through a glass door that wasn’t really there, vanishing into bright daylight, where Runaan didn’t dare follow.

He bent over the cold chocolate and sobbed brokenly, feeling old, long-buried spines of pain move deep in his flesh. Old traumas that had never been addressed, let alone known how to heal properly. How dare he try to hope. How dare he think himself worthy again. Hadn’t life put him in his place? Hadn’t fate shown him the error of his thinking? Who was he to try to correct the universe?

His tears landed on the chocolate in the pot he cradled and brought it to life. It reached for him. Its chill darkness slithered over his hands and along his arms, tugging him into the pot with it. _I won’t fit!_ Runaan realized. _This is going to break me._ Though he felt no pain, a strange creaking sound like trees in a storm told him that he was about to snap in two, right along his scars. He screamed, in denial, in fear, in a desperate call for help.

And help reached out for him and held him close. Smoothed his tousled hair from his face, murmured soft words, touched him softly. Help whispered endlessly against his temple until Runaan fell asleep again, soothed a gentle hand along his back.

Runaan dreamed again, much more softly, of slow kisses and interlaced hands and soft voices raised together. Of waking, and waking again, to that same dazzling smile. When he woke just before dawn, he was sure he’d experienced a miracle.

After all, he’d woken in the arms of the breathtaking angel who’d saved him from tumbling all the way into the hell that had lurked beneath him for the past three years.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning shenanigans ensue! 
> 
> Runaan gets a blast from the past. Ethari has an eventful breakfast. Janai triggers Runaan's security protocol. And Runaan's team has a planning meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the updated tags!

Runaan woke suddenly.

_Location: My own bedroom._

_Timestamp: Still dark._

But there was something else…

_Proximity status: Not alone._

He stiffened and blinked, waiting for his mind to construct a full sit rep. He started with the physical: his head lay snuggled atop Ethari’s bare shoulder, and his right arm draped across the man’s chest, rising with each breath. His right leg slung across sturdy hips clad in a pair of his own sleeping shorts, and his bare calf tucked itself along the outside of a very comfortable thigh. His zippered shirt was still in place, its lapels rumpled, their teeth digging into his neck. But…

_Wasn’t I wearing jeans when I…?_

Runaan’s memories began to fill in.. And they kept filling.

Ethari. Fondue. Gaming. Popcorn. Ethari. The stripping game. Accusations. The gift.

Ethari.

The nightmare. The plane. The cries. The dreams.

_Ethari_.

It was too much at once. Runaan sat abruptly and propped his elbow on his knee. He let his forehead land against his palm as he stared into the dark and tried not to hyperventilate. Each breath heaved like he was about to burst into tears. He felt like his chest held three years’ worth of screaming secrets that were trying to climb out of his mouth. Secrets he knew would push Ethari away. Send him running, even. _How can I tell him? But how can I keep the truth from him?_

Runaan looked down beside him to where Ethari lay peacefully on his back, still deeply asleep. He’d tucked one hand beneath his pillow, and the other sprawled easily across his abs, fingers lax and soft. _He makes me want to be someone else. Someone better._

He leaned over and tucked his hair behind his ears so it wouldn’t tickle Ethari awake, and then he kissed him. Softly, gratefully. “I think I love you,” he whispered, in a voice so quiet he could barely hear it himself. But a bright new creature flitted inside him, alight with an insistent spark of hope. Runaan felt like he was breaking all the laws of the universe when he leaned his forehead against Ethari’s, mustered all his courage, and softly repeated, “I love you.”

Ethari stirred in his sleep and smiled, turning toward Runaan with a soft sigh. His warm arms slipped around Runaan’s waist and pulled him down into bed again. Ethari snuggled him like a giant teddy bear and nuzzled his face against Runaan’s neck.

A low heat began to make itself known deep under the covers. Runaan smiled and brushed Ethari’s hair off his forehead. “Ethari? You awake?”

A long, low, _very_ content sigh was his only response. Ethari had drifted deeper into sleep.

Runaan nodded and sighed resignedly. It would keep. Again. He’d waited two weeks to get Ethari into his bed. He could wait two more to manage it a second time. Preferably with _less_ sleeping—

His phone beeped insistently, and he rolled over to grab it from the far nightstand, next to the side he usually slept on. The sudden stretch pulled at his injured side and sent a jag of pain through him. He cursed through gritted teeth as he scooped up the phone and answered the call, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah.”

“It’s 5:03, Boss. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He slid ever so gently from Ethari’s lax grip and let his feet rest on the hardwood floor. One of them nudged up against a puddle of black denim. The pant legs were neatly telescoped inside themselves, the way Runaan always took them off at night. He let out a tiny sigh. He’d rather have found them mindlessly tossed across the room. But it appeared he’d had no help removing them. A deeper assessment told him he’d had no help with anything at all last night. “‘Course you didn’t.”

“You just sound like you, uhh… You know…”

Runaan glanced back at Ethari, who was still sound asleep. “Ferg, if I have to sweep my house for bugs again, so _help_ me.”

Ferg backpedaled quickly, though not without a hint of humor in his voice. “Andi put me up to that one, Boss. You _know_ I’m sorry about your favorite chandelier. I did get you a new one.”

Runaan sighed grumpily. He’d been awake for four minutes and he was already tired. “Sit rep.”

Ferg snapped into work mode. “Dealer’s getting squirrely, sir. Word is, he thinks our guy’s hired a team to make sure things go his way.”

Harrow Strauss was no fool. He’d done exactly that. “He has, and it’s us. What’s Einhorn doing about it?”

“Checking us out. Not sure he’s got all our names yet. But he has yours. Only a matter of time now.”

Runaan squinted into the dark, feeling far too _seen_. It was too early in the plan for such maneuvers. His client’s trading partner, Viren Einhorn, was even more keen than they’d anticipated. “Hm. Any overt moves yet?”

“Guy’s subtle, Boss. Likes chess, not fencing. Team’s wondering if we just need to take extra precautions or advise our guy to call off the exchange. What’s the word?”

Runaan closed his eyes and let his mind’s eye widen. Playing chess with an opponent he couldn’t see meant he could only anticipate his opponent’s next moves based on the ones he’d already made—and the ones he hadn’t. Maybe Harrow’s deal would go down just fine. Maybe Viren just wanted to know who he was dealing with—who all would be in the room. It was a logical move for someone with that many resources. But it could also be an opening salvo to a more aggressive attempt to force the deal to go his way, instead of Harrow’s.

How to tell which was which, before either path had been chosen? Runaan needed to think. “I’ll get back to you. Get me contingencies roughed out for both options in the meantime.”

“You got it, Boss. Sorry to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Mmhm, if you say.” Ferg hung up, but his teasing tone rang in Runaan’s ears. Maybe he’d been more obvious than he thought, pushing the team through mission prep all weekend and then giving them Sunday night off… Now that he thought about it like _that_ , even Rayla would’ve known that he was in a hurry to get to something.

_Shit. If I_ had _any game, I’d definitely be off it._ He cast one last glance at Ethari, now sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the bed, one knee bent out to the side like a lazy movie star, arm draped toward the edge where Runaan sat. The white-haired man nibbled his lip in admiration of Ethari’s fine recumbent form and couldn’t help gingerly leaning over dropping a soft kiss against his hair.

His fingers settled around the silver pull on his shirt’s zipper and slid it down a couple of inches before his anxiety halted them. He made a fist around the zipper pull, protecting it. He held his breath, staring down at Ethari’s shoulders, smooth and muscled.

He could wake him.

But he knew he wasn’t going to. For better or worse, his window of opportunity had closed, and he had a door to walk through instead. A door that led somewhere else

He sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped. He turned back to his phone, transferring service to the shower unit so it wouldn’t ring again and wake Ethari if Ferg decided to get cutesy. Or if something actually important happened. Then he slipped out of bed and yanked his shirt zipper all the way down. The dark green shirt fluttered to the hardwood as Runaan padded toward the bathroom, and he worked his ponytail loose with one hand, setting his long hair free down his back like a moonlit cascade.

He avoided the broad mirror as he started the shower, stripped down, and fetched himself a couple of towels. Once the water was nice and hot, he pulled open the glass door and stepped inside. He soaped up and rinsed off in the roomy gray granite shower, giving his hair its usual three products, and then he took a deep breath and looked down at his newest scars.

They were still there. He reached for them, but his hand hesitated. Fat drops of hot water bounced off his fingers as he froze, unable to breathe. He lifted both hands and ran them across his face, scrubbing away those paralyzing feelings. Then he stood still with his eyes shut and let the hot water pound against his head. In the tumbling heat, he directed his thoughts somewhere productive, thinking his way through probabilities and contingencies, making mental notes for each of his team members to execute as soon as he made it into the office—

The phone rang in the shower, lighting up a panel on the wall. But it wasn’t Ferg’s businesslike beep.

_Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah_

_Roma-roma-ma_

_Gaga, ooh la-la_

It was _him_.

Runaan’s eyes shot open in unwelcome surprise, and they stung with hot water. Wincing and spluttering, he stepped out of the stream and slicked the water off his face. His heart rate skyrocketed, and suddenly it felt like he was breathing underwater. He lashed out and smacked the faucet, shutting off its flow. In moments, cool air began to curl around his ankles as the heated air rose in the now-silent shower stall. Lady Gaga continued to sing, her voice echoing in the stone cubicle.

He took a big, slow breath. Felt it push against his scars. Imagined he could feel it pressing against all his new internal hardware, too. _Relax. He can’t see you. And he always calls on the 15 th. He’s just early._

Runaan braced his forearm against the wall next to the phone unit and tapped to accept the call just before it went to voicemail. “Yeah.”

“Runaan. Hi.” Will’s voice was as soft as ever. Erudite, genteel. Easy to trust. “Knew I’d find you up at this hour.”

“You usually call in the afternoon.” Runaan pointedly _didn’t_ ask why Will had called so early.

“I’m in Luxor. It _is_ afternoon. You should see it here, my friend, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Sky is wide and cloudless. Smells like all the best food in the world… Remember when we got lost in that _mercato_ in Tuscany? I swear, you did that on purpose. _Ahhh_.”

Runaan knew that sound. It was Will lying back and relaxing. He could almost picture him, sprawling on a low Egyptian couch, or maybe in a hammock on a linen-draped balcony. That easy, eager smile, those dancing cornflower eyes. His hair could be any color at all now, depending on the role he was working on at the moment, but Runaan always remembered it as golden brown with a hint of curl. He stood dripping and chilly in his West Coast shower, listening to Egypt—and the past—on the other end of the line, and didn’t say anything.

Especially to that “got lost on purpose” bait. Runaan _had_ gotten them off the timetable on purpose that day. He’d noticed someone tailing them, even in their incognito disguises. Will had thought their hours-long safari through a series of bright market stalls, pungent back alleys, and dusty stone storage rooms delightfully thrilling and intrepid. And, Runaan added in retrospect, romantic. But Runaan had just been trying to save his life.

Will had always been astute with moods. It was one of the things that made him such a top-tier actor. He could read them with the barest of clues just as easily as he could adopt them for a scene. His stoic bodyguard had been a tough nut to crack, but he’d taken it as a friendly challenge, and eventually he’d learned to read Runaan like the quiet book he was.

He still had that book memorized, it seemed. A byproduct of making it a favorite on his shelf.

“I don’t want to take up your time,” the actor breezed, silently acknowledging that he’d called at an inopportune moment. “Just wanted to see if you needed anything…?”

Runaan’s jaw bunched. _You gave me this house. My office downtown. My car. A generous business allowance. You’ve paid for every single medical bill I’ve incurred. Found me experimental surgeons willing to branch out. Gave me my pick of therapists of every sort. Short-listed my whole team._

_Offered to “swing by” every other month._

_I never needed anything from you. Not your love. Not your guilt. Not your money. And I don’t need you now._

_I don’t need you._

But his mouth said, “We’ve got a big job this month. Might need a few extra expenses, but if we pull it off, it could really make a name for us.”

“Are you…” Will blurted, then caught himself and toned his voice down to gentle concern. “Are you quite sure that’s wise, Runaan? So soon after your last surgery? I’d hate for your recovering condition to cause your team any setbacks.”

Runaan grimaced. Will’s tactics were always so soft, he could rarely tell whether they were meant as a caress or a backstab. Often, either seemed to suit Will equally well. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of _course_ you will, darling,” Will said heartily. “Listen, I’ll release extra funds into your account. If it’s not enough, give me a shout. And, er, Runaan?”

Nausea had started swirling in his gut. He pried his throat open and managed to say, “Yeah.”

“Please, be safe. I… do care about you, still… I hope you know that.”

The proper words refused to leave Runaan’s mouth for a few seconds. He could see Will’s face plain as day, speaking those words to him with shining eyes and softly hovering brows. Charm on demand. But he gritted his teeth, swallowed hard, and got them out. “Thank you, Will. That’s kind of you to say.”

He hung up before Will could respond, flicked the water back on, and spiraled to his knees under its stinging spray. One hand supported him as he leaned onto the shower floor, and his other arm wrapped around his waist as he struggled not to dry heave. A swooping cascade of slick white hair shrouded him from the bright bathroom lighting, and he welcomed its sheltering dimness. With several minutes of concerted effort borne of years of practice, he slowly wrestled his breathing under control. Regaining muscular control over himself conveniently eased his nausea bit by bit, too, until it receded and left him feeling a little shaky and weak. He lifted his head with his eyes shut, took in a mouthful of water, and spat it back out. Then he grimaced and forced himself to his feet, resting a hand lightly on the wall for support.

_Nothing like a bit of triggery goodness to wake you up in the morning. Damn if I don’t hate Mondays. Especially when they’re the 1 st or the 15th._

He pulled the thick, sopping weight of his long hair over his right shoulder out of habit, giving his left side deferential treatment, but he noticed that after twenty minutes under the hot pounding water, he had more flexibility there than he’d expected. _Hmm. That’s not terrible. I really do seem to be mending a bit. Maybe my biggest weakness will turn out to be Ethari, after all—_

In a flash of inspiration, an entire plan landed in Runaan’s mind like a gift from the gods. In his vulnerable state, Runaan could’ve sworn he heard an actual angel choir echoing around his bathroom. A dark smile began to take over his features, pushing away his weakness like clouds before an avenging tempest.

_Wait… Wait._

Runaan shot a guilty look toward the door, past which Ethari still slumbered, peaceful, soft, and unaware of Runaan’s tumultuous morning. _I can’t drag him into this. He’s not an asset. He’s my…_

Will’s face flared in Runaan’s mind, side-lit by a bright Italian sunrise. “I need you in the plane for just a tic, Runaan. No one will miss you on the tarmac.” Those bright blue eyes were almost of a height with his own, that smile as perfect as the best dentists in Britain could make it.

Runaan had been awake for over forty hours by then, and not for the first time that week. Will had managed a few hours of sleep in the Torino hotel room before they’d headed to the airport, but Runaan hadn’t dared, not with the new intel he’d received. And so, he foolishly followed when his charge asked it of him.

Moments later, he found himself gently backed against a bulwark in the back of the plane. Those gentle pianist fingers brushed a loose lock of hair from Runaan’s forehead, cupped his cheek. Such sweet words fell from Will’s lips. Earnest eyes, begging for understanding, ignoring Runaan’s attempt to sidle away and defuse the situation.

Will couldn’t _function_ with this kind of tension. Runaan could _see_ that, couldn’t he?

Please. Just one kiss.

What could it hurt?

No one would have to know. No one but us.

“ _Please_ , Runaan.” Will’s lips were a bare inch from his own as he said it. Runaan could never remember, after, whether he’d opened his mouth to say yes or no.

Will hadn’t waited to find out.

He stole that kiss, drew it out, held Runaan against the wall when he tried to sidestep again. It was mind-blowing, being kissed by the man who’d shared onscreen lip-locks with a dozen of the world’s most famous actresses. It was overwhelming, being wanted by him. But that wasn’t why Runaan was bouncing around Europe with him on a private jet. He was there because someone wanted the actor dead, and it was Runaan’s job to keep that from happening.

But he’d just left his post overseeing the loading of the Gulfstream to let his lovesick charge steal a kiss because he’d been too sleep-deprived to refuse.

Will’s hands tangled in Runaan’s hair. “Tell me that was alright,” he panted through a breathlessly dazzling smile.

Flattered, annoyed, unwillingly aroused, and so _very_ tired, Runaan had opened his mouth to comment on the romantic moment Will seemed certain they were sharing, but the sudden burst of gunfire from the plane’s airstairs had suddenly taken precedence.

His shower started to run cold, and the chill prickle across his skin brought him out of that too-vivid memory, leaving him wet and shivering from more than the water’s icy bite. He let his mouth fill again, rinsing away the remembered taste of Will’s tongue, before he spat it out and swiped the back of his hand across his lips. Then he shut off the shower and stood for a bit, smoothing his thumb over the old bullet scar on his outer thigh as if he could press it away. Wet fingers pushed open the glass door, leaving clear streaks. He reached for a fluffy towel and squeezed out his hair, tucking his long ends safely inside it and wrapping it atop his head. As he stepped out of the shower, he nabbed a second towel, dried off slowly, and slung it around his hips.

He raised reluctant eyes to the steamed mirror, taking in his reflection, and rested his left forearm lightly against his chest, covering the worst of his scars from his own sight. _Maybe if I just walked out there and he was awake…_

Before Runaan could stop himself, he stepped back into the bedroom and paused, studying Ethari. But his date was still sound asleep. And looking ridiculously cute and comfortable in Runaan’s bed.

Runaan sighed again and tucked his hopes away. They would keep, too. What was done was done. Ethari had misunderstood last night. Runaan hadn’t seen someone _else_ suffering from poor sleep-deprivation choices. He’d been the one _making_ them. And they’d ruined his life.

_I couldn’t let you make the same mistake_ , he thought, watching the soft curve of Ethari’s back rise and fall. _What if I ruin your life?_

Runaan’s master plan resurfaced. _God help me, I just might. This may be the worst idea I’ve ever had. But it’s all I’ve got. And…_ He swallowed hard, feeling the dropoff just past his toes, down into the depths of long-unused feelings he barely understood. _And I know it’ll work. I_ know _it will work._

He swallowed hard and stared longingly at Ethari’s slumbering form. “Because I love you.”

Runaan stalked over to his phone, transferred his calls back to mobile, and tapped a quick contact. He paced toward the full-length window as it rang. When the other end picked up, he turned to watch Ethari sleeping. “Good morning, sir. You’ve heard about Einhorn’s new interest in the details of the exchange? Yes sir, I mean my team. Good. Yes, I’m aware he knows my name. No, not worried at all. This is good for us.”

His eyes caressed Ethari’s form, relaxed and soft, heavy, real. _My angel. I’m going to drag you into hell with me. I hope your wings are singe-proof. But either way, I’m burning to a crisp._

“Sir, it’s _exactly_ what I want,” he lied, gently interrupting his client. “Let him delve into my life all he likes. It won’t change the plan one bit. Trust me, sir. This is what I do. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He hung up and called Ferg back. Silhouetted against the first rays of dawn that gleamed through his full length windows, Runaan tugged the towel from his head and let his long damp hair fall cool and sleek across his back. He wanted nothing more than to climb back in bed and let Ethari teach him how to be lazy and get up at nine AM. And possibly a few times before then, too. But he was out of time. He wasn’t as ready as he wanted to be. And he had work to do.

The line picked up. “Yeah, Boss.” Ferg was slightly out of breath, as if Runaan had caught him between sets in his home gym.

“I found our angle. Call everyone in.”

***

Ethari rose to wakefulness at the sound of an unfamiliar alarm, feeling lax and warm and amazingly well rested. He groaned and fumbled for the chiming noise, fingers questing across the bed—

He gasped and opened his eyes, suddenly remembering where he was. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around the sunlit room. “Runaan?”

No answer. The large bedroom was empty, save for himself. The bed smelled of Runaan, and deliciously, so did he. He hummed saucily and glanced around again. His purple vest now hung from the back of a chair across the room, and a delicious-smelling tray of food sat atop the sheets, bearing several covered dishes and a cream-colored card that announced in silver calligraphy, “I’m Sorry.”

Ethari’s shoulders slumped. “Breakfast was supposed to be together.” He tapped the silvery alarm box that Runaan had helpfully left for him, shutting off its electronic yelping. Six-thirty. Plenty of time for him to eat, head home, shower, and change, and still get to work on time. Runaan may have gone, but Ethari could still feel his gentle regard and it warmed his heart. He rolled onto his back and propped the card on his chest, flipping it open with his thumb.

Runaan’s tidy handwriting scrolled across the inside, and Ethari couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his own name in the man’s careful script.

_Ethari,_

_Please forgive my leaving without waking you. You needed the sleep. I truly cannot thank you enough for last night. You’re more than I could ever have wished for, and far more than I deserve. You gifted me something last night that I haven’t felt in years. To be held by you, Ethari, is to feel truly treasured. You are so beautiful to me that it’s taken me twenty minutes to write this much down. God forbid I try to confess these feelings in real time. Dynasties have toppled faster._

_Amaya insisted on making you breakfast. She’s loading up the tray as I write this. I’ll be chaotically busy until this job is done, but the thought of being apart from you for two weeks straight is already suffocating me. I’m afraid I need you rather desperately, my darling heart._

_Deeply yours,_

_Runaan_

Ethari’s chest was fluttery by the time he reached the end of the note. “Dramatic man. You couldn’t just write something simple, could you?” he murmured smilingly. “Noooo, you had to wrap me around your pinky with every charming word.” Then he caught sight of a small postscript under his finger.

_P.S. Help yourself to my shower. I left you another note._

Ethari’s brows rose. He wished he’d been awake when Runaan had still been home. Tantalizing as this note was, Ethari would rather have heard these things in person. He could’ve had a very different Monday morning, indeed. Ethari looked away from the note as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. _Still fucking up this morning thanks to staying up all Saturday night. Great_.

He took a minute to sort through his thoughts. Runaan had still gotten him breakfast and written him a heartfelt message. Ethari couldn’t have screwed up _too_ badly—

Runaan’s nightmare resurfaced in his mind. He’d been fully asleep when Runaan started flailing and crying out. If he’d been less tired, he might’ve tried to wake the man, but instead he’d reached out on instinct and pulled him closer, hoping to protect Runaan from the demons in his head.

And it had worked. Runaan had quieted. He’d clung needily, whimpering under his breath at first, muttering something too low and fast for Ethari’s sleepy brain to parse. And then, slowly, he’d relaxed against Ethari, found that slow breathing rhythm again, and slipped back under the cover of sleep. Ethari remembered having one bright and grateful moment that he’d managed one good thing at Runaan’s place before he too drifted off again.

_Is that what he’s thanking me for? Well, he’s welcome. Nightmares are no fun._ Thoughtfully, Ethari helped himself to scrambled eggs and bacon, a couple of cute croissants and some chunked pineapple, and drank the rich coffee with three sugar packets and two of cream. _Amaya sure knows what she’s doing with breakfast_ , Ethari thought happily.

He left the tray at the foot of the bed, unable to eat everything Amaya had made for him in one go, and headed for the shower. He paused next to a tall, slender display case that caught his eye, though. Tucked into the corner of the room, it displayed only four items, each similar yet different. Ethari racked his brain for the word. _Something Japanese…_ kintsukuroi, _I think_. He studied the objects, one on each glass shelf by itself, and frowned curiously.

The stoneware in the case was beautiful, each piece of a deep teal antique design. One teapot, one teacup, one saucer, and one bowl, they formed a matched set. Each item had broken into several pieces and been mended with gold along their uneven cracks. Ethari felt strangely drawn to their solitary beauty. He rested a hand on the glass and smiled down at the repaired bowl for a long moment, uncertain what exactly it was about the piece that appealed so.

Reluctantly, he sighed and continued into the bathroom with one last backward look. He didn’t find a note anywhere on the gray marble counters, nor poking out of the fluffy towel waiting for him on the counter. Disappointed, he pulled open the glass door and studied the intricate shower control. “How do you work, hmm? Tell Ethari all your secrets.” After a few test nudges, Runaan’s shower willingly offered him a steaming downpour. “That’s my girl.”

Five minutes into his very fancy shower—which he compared favorably to the Posh Wash carwash downtown, and knew he always would from this point on—a dark curve on the steamy glass door caught his eye.

He stepped out of the water and wiped his face, squinting as he puzzled out what exactly he was looking at.

It was a capital S as big as his hand, drawn in something that resisted the steam on the glass door. His eyes leaped to find more letters. In seconds, he’d deciphered Runaan’s “another note.”

_Snack_.

Ethari’s cheeks got even hotter than the shower had made them. “Ooh, you toppy bastard,” he said, chuckling. “How do you keep doing things to me when you’re not even in the room?” His eyes lingered on the bottle of Runaan’s shampoo, dramatically labeled as Deep Shadows. One whiff filled his nose with the cool, sharp smell that had enticed him so easily that first day in the eyeglass shop. _Nnngh. Yep, that’s the smell that’s been driving me crazy for two weeks._

He took another deep sniff and tipped the bottle, filling his palm with a couple of thick pumps. _Snack, huh? Don’t mind if I do._

***

Ethari was way too happy when he found access to Runaan’s music system in what seemed to be a rarely used panel in the bathroom wall. He’d just been trying to find a hair dryer, but he’d found something far more fun. He cranked up some tunes while he dried off and sang along to his heart’s content, making rock star faces at himself in the mirror.

Then he sighed and looked at the pile of his own clothing. Maybe Runaan wouldn’t mind if he borrowed a thing or two, just until he got home to change properly. A mischievous grin came over his face as he remembered that Runaan _had_ pointed out his sock drawer last night.

A minute later, Ethari cranked up “Old Time Rock and Roll” and slid across Runaan’s hardwood floor in a pair of borrowed socks—and _only_ socks—singing at the top of his lungs. He slid past the foot of the bed and snatched a pair of croissants without slowing, turning them into both ends of his air guitar and strumming madly. He twirled and threw out a sassy kick, then he dropped to his knees and bent backward, howling the lyrics with abandon in his best impression of Tom Cruise’s pose.

Still arching backward, playing his air-croissant guitar, he opened his eyes.

Amaya stood wide-eyed, frozen in mid-step, just inside the bedroom door. Her shocked expression didn’t waver from his face, but her hand swiftly rose to block Ethari’s junk from view.

Ethari screeched in panic. His croissants went flying in opposite directions across the room. Flailing like a cartoon guy with no traction, he managed to hurl himself onto the floor behind the bed, out of Amaya’s sight, landing in a painful tangle of limbs. He waited in an embarrassed heap, covering his mouth so he didn’t make any noise, and peeked under the bed to see if Amaya’s feet were carrying her away.

They were not.

_Oh god, now I have to face her._ Ethari took a deep breath, tried on his brightest smile, and popped up, resting his elbows on the side of the bed. He waved cheerily. “Morning, Amaya.”

Amaya lowered her hand and offered him a patient smile. She signed slowly, apparently asking him if he’d slept well.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yep. Sure did.”

She indicated the tray she’d brought in while he was still asleep. Her signing clearly inquired whether he was done with it.

Ethari picked up one of his croissants, which had bounced off the wall, tumbled across the bed pillows, and come to rest in the middle of the tangled sheets. He stuffed half of it in his mouth and nodded casually.

Amaya’s shoulders shook with a little laugh, and she signed for him to wait there. Then she turned and opened one of Runaan’s drawers, searching delicately through its contents.

A dusty pink pair of bikini underwear flew through the air and landed on the bed next to Ethari’s right elbow. He looked at it, then up at her. “What’s this for?”

Amaya didn’t even need to sign. She just stared pointedly at how he was hiding behind Runaan’s bed because he was naked except for a pair of socks.

Ethari’s blush deepened. “Okay, fair. But why pink?” He picked up the soft item and studied it before looking back to Amaya.

_“R-dapper’s lips.”_

Ethari blinked, having understood her signs perfectly. On instinct, he copied Runaan’s name back to her, feeling his way through the motions.

The smile that broke across her face lit the room, and her wink said entirely too much for being silent.

Ethari’s eyes widened. She thought Ethari might enjoy wearing the color of Runaan’s lips around his hips all day. He yelped, dropped the undies, and then snatched them back up, clutching them against his bare chest and offering Amaya an accusatory glare. “Thank you, yes, I love them and he may never get them back. Winglesbian status restored.”

Amaya took the tray and left, cackling.

***

Ethari considered leaving the gift he’d made for Runaan on the bed, but he really wanted to see Runaan’s face light up—hopefully—when he opened the little box. As he fetched his coat from the foyer’s lazy Susan closet, he reluctantly pocketed the package once more and headed out the front door into the crisp morning sun.

His breath fogged as he headed for his car, but the morning sun had already melted most of the frost on his windows. While he was fumbling for his keys, a bright figure approached out of the corner of his eye.

Janai puffed to a stop near him and grinned. Her gold-lamé sports bra and jogging shorts gleamed against her warm brown skin, and she didn’t seem to feel the frosty air in the slightest, even with her braids twisted into a high bun that left her neck exposed to the cold. Ethari felt a little warmer just standing near her. And safer—her toned muscles were amazing. “It was nice to meet you, Ethari,” she said. “I hope we see more of you soon.”

Ethari’s eyes widened. “I think your wife’s seen too much already,” he blurted.

Janai chuckled. “Don’t worry, your hammock kiss wasn’t _that_ spicy.”

Ethari inhaled slowly. _Don’t say a word, don’t say a word, don’t say a w—_

“Did you get a chance to say goodbye this morning?” she continued blithely. “Runaan always rises so early.”

“No, I…” Ethari looked down. Despite every sign Runaan had left for him—more than one of them being _actual_ signs—he couldn’t help but feel that things would have been better if he’d just slept a few hours Saturday night instead of staying up and gushing to his dad over how amazing Runaan was.

“What did he do?” Janai demanded softly.

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that. It was fine—”

Her hand settled around his wrist like a vise. “Come with me.” She began towing him back toward the front door.

Ethari tried to protest, but his heels just skidded in the gravel. “Wait, I have work, it’s not that big a deal—”

“Was he rude?”

“No, not at all.”

“Bossy?”

“Actually, no—”

She stopped abruptly on the front porch, right between the granite half-pillars. “Did he shut you out?”

“No. a-at least I don’t think so… Janai, it’s _fine_ , I promise. It’s… it’s my fault.”

Her solid grip softened to a comforting one. “Oh. Can I… can I help?”

Ethari ducked his head, embarrassed. “Not sure there’s any help for it now. I just stayed up all night the night before, and then I was too tired…” His cheeks flushed hot. “I literally, uh, I fell asleep…” He glanced up through his lashes and saw Janai biting her lip and wincing in commiseration. “He tucked me into bed, and then he left early.” It wouldn’t help to tell her about Runaan’s nightmare.

“So he still hasn’t…” she began, but she caught herself.

Ethari sighed. “No, we didn’t.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” Janai said quickly. “Your relationship, your pace. I don’t get to judge.”

Ethari’s eyebrows rose softly. “Yeah? Thanks, that’s good to hear from someone.”

Janai set her hands on her hips and laughed. “Do you know how many times I changed my mind about Amaya while we were dating?” She rubbed her nose and looked down with a grin. “Every other day I decided I wasn’t ready for this or that part of our relationship. Even if I’d been ready the week before. I drove her crazy, I know I did. But you know what?” She grinned and met his eyes.

“What?” Ethari murmured, intrigued despite himself.

“She let me change my mind. Every time. Sometimes it was in the middle of plans, too. But she always took a deep breath and told me that it was okay. The worst thing she ever did was the time I panicked one night and didn’t want to go out to a restaurant with her, after we’d had reservations for a month. So we stayed in, and she baked a whole batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, _from scratch_ , and didn’t sign a word to me the whole time. But by the time the cookies were done, she’d calmed down and started smiling again. We snuggled up and watched movies all night and ate all our cookies.”

“That’s… honestly pretty adorable,” Ethari confessed.

Janai’s voice got soft and hesitant. “You know why that night was so important to her?”

Ethari squinted, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, no, she was going to…?”

Janai looked down. “Yeah. I thought I’d ruined it when I found out the next morning. There was going to be a ring in my chocolate lava cake and everything. I just, I needed some time to process that. So Runaan and I went for a run. And halfway down the driveway, I had a panic attack. Do you want to know what he told me, while I was dry heaving into his terraced landscaping?”

“I do,” Ethari said. His ears were tingling with interest, and he couldn’t have walked away from this conversation if he’d tried.

She took Ethari’s hands and squeezed them. “He squatted down beside me and held my hands like this, and he said, ‘She’s not mad, Janai. She’s sad. Anger is one of the steps of grieving. She wanted very much to propose to you last night, but she chose to let all of those plans go. She _chose_ to let go, for _you_. Because she loves you, so very much.’ And that really changed how I saw things.”

“Runaan told you that?” Ethari said softly.

Janai’s smile was brilliant. “I know, right? He’s picking up more than he thinks from his— He’s smarter than he looks,” she amended. “So let me give this kindness back to him, by giving it to you. Runaan wanted very much to have sex with you last night, but he chose to let those plans go when he realized you were struggling. Runaan only changes his mind when he truly cares. You said he wasn’t angry or cold about it?”

“No, he was… very understanding, really.”

Janai squeezed his hands again. “That means he cares very much.” A twinkle glinted in her eye. “And I can prove it.”

“Janai, no, what’s that mean?”

“ _Attendez_.” She held up an instructive finger, grasped the front door knob, and slammed her shoulder against it.

Ethari gasped. The door bolted itself shut. A bank of security lights inset in the wall flared on, and Ethari winced in their glare. Janai ignored them, tossed an arm around Ethari’s shoulders, and made a peace sign in the general direction of the door itself.

“What are you doing?”

“Smile, Ethari! We’re activating a security response.”

“What? Janai!”

Adam Lambert started belting out “Strut” from his phone. Ethari fumbled it from his coat pocket as Janai broke into laughter over his ringtone.

Runaan’s voice was crisp. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m a little confused, but I’m okay. I was just leaving for home… Janai, what the _hell_.”

She blew an air kiss toward the door and leaned in toward Ethari’s phone. “ _Tout va bien_ , Runaan. Ethari is just broken-hearted that he didn’t get to say goodbye. Look sad, Ethari. He can see you.”

Ethari glanced between her and the door, which apparently had a hidden camera somewhere. He grinned, but quickly shifted to mime-level sadness.

Runaan’s even tone was nowhere near cracking. “Ethari, will you please put me on speaker?”

“Okay.” He tapped the speaker button.

“Janai,” Runaan continued, “my security protocols are not to be used for frivolous purposes. Please don’t do this again.”

“ _Alors_ , Runaan, you play at being strict, but we all see who you really are.”

Runaan remained silent. Ethari shot Janai a nervous look.

She sighed and relented. “Okay. No more frivolous calls.”

Runaan’s voice was softer when he replied, “Thank you. Ethari. I hope you found everything satisfactory this morning?”

Ethari’s eyes widened as he flashed back to waking in Runaan’s big comfy bed. He carefully avoided looking at Janai, whose smirk was so big he could see it out of the corner of his eye. “Y-yeah, thanks. Everything was great.”

“You found both notes?”

Runaan’s tone was calm and businesslike, but Ethari couldn’t match it. His voice jumped an octave as he managed to say, “Yep. Mmhmm. Sure did.”

“Mmm. That’s good to hear.” Runaan couldn’t quite keep the rumbly hum of pleasure out of his voice. “I hope _Amaya_ took good care of you,” Runaan added, heavily implying that Janai’s shenanigans weren’t entirely forgiven yet.

_Oh shit._ Ethari’s cheeks flushed at the memory he’d actually managed to suppress for several minutes. “B-Breakfast was great! Super good coffee!” he blurted, fumbling for literally anything to talk about that didn’t involve Amaya seeing him basically naked. “And she lent me some underwear.”

Runaan’s and Janai’s twin “ _What_ ”s slammed into Ethari’s ears.

“No, no, Runaan, they were yours!” Ethari scrambled to explain.

The “ _What_ ”s repeated, with more urgency and a higher pitch.

“ _Oh my god_ …” Ethari pressed a fingertip against the inner corner of one eye and sighed. _This is just my life now. I am this disaster gay, hi, it’s me still._ “They’re very comfy and I’m wearing them all day,” he blurted. “Sorry, that’s all you get. I need to get home if I’m gonna make it to work on time. Bye, hon. Have a good day at work.” He made a kissing noise and hung up.

Janai remained on Runaan’s porch as Ethari headed for his car again. “Ethari?” she called.

“Nope!” he called back. “I’m done blushing today. Ask your wife!”

“You see what I mean, though, yes?”

He paused with his fingers chilling against the cold metal of his car door. “About what?”

“He called you the second his security app told him there was trouble at his front door. He called _you_.”

Ethari grinned as that thought sank into his mind and settled warmly in his chest. “Are you always this dramatic when you’re trying to make a point?” he asked.

“ _Non_. Sometimes I break out my drum set. Remember what I said, Ethari. I’ll see you again, okay?”

“I hope so. I’m still planning to kick your ass at _No-brainer Magic_!” He hopped in and started up his car. After his heater warmed up, he rolled down his window, tossed her a jaunty French salute, and peeled out of Runaan’s driveway with his tires spewing gravel like an 80s action star.

He looked back at the first turn to see Janai texting on her phone while repeatedly glancing up at the bolted door. He laughed out loud and wondered whether she was begging Amaya or Runaan to unlock the door and let her in.

***

Forty-five minutes later, Ethari hurried into work via the back entrance with two minutes to spare before 8am and found Opeli waiting for him with bright eyes and a cup of coffee.

She handed him the cup and asked eagerly, “Soooo, how was your date?”

Ethari’s mouth hung open. Where even to start? He filled the awkward silence with a big gulp of coffee.

“Ethari? Did everything go okay? Are you alright? I meant it when you said you could call me,” Opeli reminded him.

“Thanks, Opeli.” Ethari rubbed the back of his neck and looked away with a brief grin. “I really don’t know how to answer that question yet. It was… lots of stuff happened.”

“Good or bad stuff?” Opeli inquired softly.

“Honestly, some of both. But you know what? I think it’s gonna be okay. I just have this feeling. And my gut is always right.”

Opeli’s smile was relieved and excited. “I’m so happy for you! But listen, it’s time to open, and I only need one thing from you today.”

Ethari sensed the incoming pun and said in time with Opeli: “Focus!”

***

“Let’s focus on access.” Runaan scooted his rolling office chair back from the table where his team sat, and then kept on pushing. He rolled across the bare concrete floor of the warehouse until his wheels crossed the edge of the chalked blueprints that his team had drawn to excruciating scale in the middle of the large empty room. He put his feet on the green-chalk shrubbery at the edge of the property that had been selected to host the exchange job, then he leaned his elbows onto his knees and frowned. Despite a wall surrounding the property, Runaan counted no less than six zones that would be hard to defend if something went down. “There’s too much of it.”

The others rose behind him and walked over, spreading out around the edge of the giant mansion sketch. Ferg crossed his arms on Runaan’s right and gently gnawed the inside of his cheek. “Tech, or manpower?” he asked.

Runaan glanced up. He and Ferg had crossed paths way back in the day, before he’d taken up guarding the bodies of the extremely wealthy. They hadn’t been on the same side then. But the white-blond Irishman was far too pragmatic to let a little thing like a bullet hole get in the way of steady work. Especially since his grannies had finally been allowed to marry properly, and he’d funded the trip around the world they’d always said they’d take if they got a proper honeymoon.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Runaan said.

“We could invite the queens,” Andi suggested. The former thief was really more like a ninja, the way she collected sharp things to stab people with, and she’d taken to Runaan like an older brother, even going so far as to put a couple of Viking braids in her hair to match his.

Runaan frowned at her choice. “Compound’s not big enough.”

“‘For the two of us’?” Other Sam finished with a grin.

“For their arsenal,” Runaan corrected. He raised a wry brow at his tech man, a late addition to the team, but flawless in performance over the past two missions. Runaan still hadn’t quite gotten used to his half-shaved head, though. “I’m looking for subtle, not scorched earth.”

“The Swede, then,” Andi said.

“The who?” Ferg asked.

“You know. With the red hair and that godawful mustache. Does demolitions, bit of hacking.”

“Hey. I hack,” Other Sam protested. “What do we need another hacker for?”

Andi put her hands on her hips and toed one of the weak spots in the chalk outline. “For the boom.”

“Looking for _subtle_. Did I mention?” Runaan groused. “Is he really calling himself the Swede now? He’s Finnish.”

Proper Sam finally piped up from down by the chalked tennis courts. “Finnisher does sound a bit superhero, Boss.”

Andi grimaced distastefully. “Yeah, but in a _knockoff_ kind of way. Like, I wouldn’t steal that nickname if it were sitting unlocked in a dark alley with a hundred bucks pinned to its lapel.”

“Our girl’s got standards, eh?” Other Sam said. “How about two hundred?” he asked her, joshing her elbow.

“Oh honey,” she sassed, pushing his hand away with a single finger as she would a sticky child’s, “I don’t need to pay for my dates.”

Even Runaan grinned at that one, though he dropped his chin and kept his eyes on the blueprint.

“Think of the Finnish one-liners, though,” Ferg said.

Proper Sam grinned and mimed shooting a target with his finger. In his best Schwarzenegger accent, he intoned, “You’re Finnished.” He blew imaginary smoke from his fingertip as the others snorted into full laughter.

While his team let off a little tension in a finger-gun shootout, Runaan ran over his shiny new master plan. He had no intention of taking on personnel at this late juncture, but with Viren Einhorn’s eye on him, and soon his team as well, he needed everyone to be a little more flexible than even he was usually comfortable with. He stood from his office chair and stepped carefully across the big chalk sketch until his shoes came to rest atop the swimming pool.

“Getting cold feet, Boss?” Other Sam asked, eyeing the cartoon waves under Runaan’s feet.

“On the contrary,” Runaan said. “I’m about to take the plunge. And I’m asking you all to take it with me. Einhorn knows who I am. He may find you next. I’ll do everything I can to keep him in the dark and see this job through. But when we jump, we may not land where we want to. So, what do you say? You’re not afraid of heights, I hope.”

“I’m in,” Ferg said without hesitation.

“Banzai!” Andi hooted, making devil horns with both hands.

“How far down are we falling?” Other Sam asked.

“Not sure yet,” Runaan replied.

“I’ll jump with you,” Proper Sam said quietly.

Other Sam looked around. “Hey, I can vibe with that. I got a little sister I’m trying to put through MIT.”

Andi snorted. “Ha! Nerd.” Then she snaked her toned arms around one of his skinny ones and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “Is your sister seeing anyone?”

Other Sam raised a speculative eyebrow at her and smiled. “I’ll ask.”

Runaan’s phone beeped a notification.

_File ready for viewing_ , it said.

His cheeks heated, and the warm memory of Ethari’s arms around him last night tugged him right back into his bed. He swallowed hard and looked up. “Weak spots don’t need to be guarded if you can guarantee no one will be looking at them. Spitball some ideas.” He stepped off the chalked mansion and his team moved in, circling it like vultures, conjuring plans involving disguises, planted weapon caches, and—somehow—an inflatable clown driver for a getaway vehicle.

Ferg kept an eye on Runaan. He knew his boss’s routine well enough by now. The team could say anything they wanted, and Runaan would step up with the real plan when everyone else had had their fun.

But this time Runaan was barely listening. He tapped the media file and adjusted its brightness, eyes fixed on his phone.

His bedroom appeared, with Ethari just beginning to stir from sleep. Runaan bit his lip and watched as Ethari read the note propped atop his chest. He drank in the man’s soft, lazy movements as he helped himself to breakfast, clearly enjoying Amaya’s cooking. Feeling his breathing speed up, Runaan advanced the playback until Ethari headed toward the ensuite bathroom. His throat closed as his boyfriend stopped and examined the _kintsukoroi_ collection. When Ethari rested a hand softly against the glass, Runaan swore he could feel it on his own skin.

Heart stuttering, he skipped ahead until Ethari returned. He nearly choked as Ethari sauntered out wearing nothing but the skin he was born with and singing into an imaginary microphone.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he blurted.

“Boss?” Ferg asked.

“Hm? N-Nothing, carry on.” Runaan half turned away, trying to look casual as he looked back at his phone, drinking in every inch of the freshly showered man. From head to toe, Ethari looked _delicious_ , his form all broad planes and sturdy curves and unbridled glee. Runaan had seen most of him last night, but something about the unbroken view of his deep chestnut skin tinted his undeniable hotness with a downright adorable aesthetic. The hot shower he’d just taken had done him every favor, and that ass…

Runaan dizzily sucked in a breath. He’d forgotten how for a full minute. He pressed his lips together tightly, lest he start muttering—curses or prayers, he wasn’t sure which.

Then Ethari strutted that cute butt of his over to Runaan’s dresser and casually raided his sock drawer.

Runaan’s eyes widened, and he squinted at the screen in disbelief. Then he gulped and did a quick assessment of his posture, relaxing his back and shoulders and glancing up at his team in case they’d noticed his _extreme_ interest in his phone.

They were still in full bullshit mode and enjoying themselves thoroughly. Andi was showing off a handstand atop Ferg’s shoulders and trying to convince Other Sam to bring aerial drones on the job.

Runaan managed a casual—if breathless—smile as Ferg glanced at him again. But when he looked back down. Ethari was skidding across his floor, wearing only Runaan’s socks, in a clear imitation of Tom Cruise’s _Risky Business_ slide. Runaan tensed up so fast that he felt his blood pressure rise in his face. His eyes swam and his nose throbbed—and it wasn’t alone. _N-Nosebleed emoji…_

On his phone, Ethari hopped and danced and writhed theatrically, wrapping one arm around his own waist and belting out his song of choice as he sang into his illusory microphone. Moments later, a couple of croissants got pressed into service as part of his air guitar.

When Ethari dropped to his knees and arched backward, Runaan’s mind fritzed, and he lost control of his breathing. His face was on fire, and he could feel sweat forming along his hairline and down his back. There was no taking back the tiny, desperate noises that escaped his mouth.

And then _Amaya_ walked into his bedroom. Runaan couldn’t help but let out a low, moaning “No” as Ethari panicked and yeeted himself onto the floor along the near edge of the bed. Runaan’s chest heaved with jagged breaths as Ethari propped his elbows on the bed to chat with her, leaving that finely rounded ass pointed right toward the security camera.

Runaan’s inner monologue was composed nearly exclusively of exclamation points, punctuated by the occasional heartfelt f-bomb.

“Boss? Everything okay?”

Runaan jerked his gaze up and plastered his phone screen against his shirt. Ferg was studying him with mild concern. “What?”

Ferg dropped his gaze toward Runaan’s overly protected phone. “Problem with the mission?” he clarified.

“No,” Runaan clipped, even as his pulse throbbed through the hard flush in his cheeks, and elsewhere. “I just… forgot to eat breakfast. Amaya says it’s the most important meal of the day. Excuse me. I have a sudden need for a snack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Runaan deserved what he got, the snoopy bastard. :P Still, spying on people? Historically, not awesome. Runaan's trust issues at work. Also, thoughts on Will? How is he landing? Please don't say "with a crash"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say hurt/comfort? Me, it was me. Ethari was probably a boy scout the way he's always prepared. Opeli does her best tomato impression. Runaan gets his canon stripes. Also, a new character emerges. What could this person be up to, I wonder?
> 
> tw: blood, injuries

Ethari: Good night. Sleep tight. Can I offer you a crescent moon emoji in these trying times?

Runaan: Trying times?

Ethari: Yes, because I’m *trying* to say good night

Runaan: Oh my god Ethari

Ethari: You like it

Runaan: I am not sure I’m comfortable with being this understood

Ethari: You like being an enigma, and I like solving puzzles. We’re a perfect match!

Runaan: *existential crisis noises*

Ethari: 😂 😂 😂

***

Ethari’s alarm woke him in the middle of a dream, and he flailed for his phone. When he cracked open his eyelids, it was still pitch black. “Wha? Oh!” A spike of adrenaline hit him, and he fumbled for the right app.

When his video call was accepted, a rumpled mound of white hair appeared over an arched brow and a single piercing turquoise eye. “What are you doing up this early?” Runaan asked in a voice gravelly with sleep.

Ethari’s whole chest warmed at the delicious sound of his boyfriend’s voice, and he turned and propped his phone next to him as if Runaan were lying there. He snuggled against his pillow and grinned mischievously. “It’s five AM. Had to say good morning to you once, didn’t I?”

That bright blue eye blinked slowly. “You woke up early… to tell me good morning?”

Ethari beamed. “I sure did. You’re worth waking up early for.”

Runaan took a deep, slow breath and rolled over with a grumpy grumble, releasing a pillow he’d been hugging. Ethari had a lovely view of him with his hair in a braid so loose that thick locks of it sprawled across his dark blue pillowcase before the man propped his phone against his former snuggle pillow, in a position that mirrored Ethari’s own.

The men gazed at each other, sleepily, happily, for several seconds.

“This is nice,” Runaan said.

Ethari reached for his phone screen and brushed a finger along Runaan’s cheek. “Sure is. You snuggle a pillow at night, huh?”

“Not usually. But this one smells like a really cute guy I met at the eyeglass shop.”

Ethari’s heart melted, and he physically ached to be able to touch Runaan again. “You slept hugging my pillow?” he asked softly.

“Oh, was that you? I wasn’t sure without my glasses on,” Runaan teased.

“What would you do without me?” Ethari murmured. He sighed and added, “I’m sorry again about yesterday morning. I wish we could’ve woken up together.”

Runaan’s smile faded, and his lashes lowered. “Yeah.”

Ethari’s heart teetered, and a dozen apologies tumbled into his mouth, fighting to be spoken aloud.

“Listen,” Runaan began.

Ethari’s heart contracted, and he swallowed hard.

“I know my work is crazy right now,” Runaan continued, “and I need my focus on point. There are entire hours where I forget you exist. But that’s a terrible sin I can’t stop committing right now. And I need to keep committing it for the next two weeks. I swear to you, I’ll pay any penance you like after that. But until then… I…” His boyfriend looked away regretfully.

“Runaan?” Ethari prompted softly. His heart rate had climbed precipitously.

Runaan squeezed his eyes shut as if he were in pain. “I just need to focus until this is done. And you’re so…”

“Distracting?” Ethari’s whisper rose from the hollow in his gut.

“Irresistible,” Runaan corrected firmly. “I can’t think gay around you, let alone straight, Ethari. But I have a job to do, and I need to see it through. It’s dangerous, and if I’m not at the top of my game, people will get hurt. People could die.”

Ethari gulped. “I… I understand.”

“It sounds like you don’t.” Runaan shifted on his bed, tilting the camera and propping his elbow to support his head. “I don’t have a lot of experience saying things straight out, but I want to be perfectly clear with you. Ethari… I… need my space, but… _Please_ , I want you to keep calling me. I can’t really explain why it matters so much, but… knowing that you’re thinking of me… I want to hear that, it gives me something to—”

Ethari’s heart soared. “Yes, of course!”

“Preferably not at five AM,” Runaan interjected quickly. “You need your sleep. I mean it. This call is sweet, and I appreciate the hell out of it. But I’m never asking you to risk sleep deprivation for me again.” A wild light flickered in Runaan’s eyes for a moment, and he blinked it away.

Ethari’s heart rate pattered happily and finally began to settle. “How about evenings, then?” he offered. “What time do you usually go to bed?”

“Ten, after Amaya bends me into a pretzel.”

Ethari could hear Runaan’s strict scheduling echoing around his words. “It’s a date, then. I’ll call you tonight at ten.”

Runaan sighed through a soft smile. “That sounds great.”

“Have a good day today, hon. I’ll see you tonight.” Ethari brought his screen close and smooched it.

“Wait, wait,” Runaan protested.

Ethari held it far enough away to focus on Runaan’s face again. “What?”

“I wasn’t ready. Do that again.”

Ethari’s brows lifted as he smiled. “Okay.” He brought the phone in slowly, and saw Runaan doing the same. They kissed their phones at the same moment, with soft smacking noises. Ethari broke into giggles and looked at his screen again.

Runaan grinned smugly at him and flicked his eyebrows knowingly. “Best kiss of the day.”

Ethari tsked. “Better be your only kiss of the day.”

“For all you know, I kiss my cat between her ears,” Runaan riposted.

“Runaan, you don’t have a cat.”

Runaan affected a perplexed look. “Note to self: get a cat just to prove Ethari wrong.”

Ethari giggled helplessly. “I admire your dedication to this totally obvious deception, hon. But if you ever do want to get a cat, let me come with you to the shelter. I would love to see what kind of cat appeals to you.”

Runaan’s expression softened into surprise. “Note to self: actually consider getting a cat.”

Ethari laughed and pressed another kiss to his phone. “You’re adorable.”

Runaan’s protest was soft. “Hey. That’s my line.”

***

“Good evening, Mr. Deimos. This is your ten PM good night call. Please hold for the cute guy from the eyeglass shop.” Ethari managed to keep from laughing, but his last words slipped out through a big grin.

Runaan stared wide-eyed at him from a low angle, mouth full of toothbrush. He made a quick “Mm” of protest and set the phone on the bathroom counter. Ethari heard a blast of running water and caught a glimpse of white braid dangling down, bright against the distant ceiling, and then Runaan picked back up. He grinned sans toothbrush and said, “I’m running a couple minutes late, I see. I’ll have to have a word with my scheduler.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Ethari said, enjoying the glimpses he got of Runaan’s soft black T-shirt pulling lightly across his chest as the man strode out into his bedroom. “I hear he’s working really hard and missing his boyfriend something terrible.”

Runaan hit the lights and sank onto his bed with a tired sigh, lit only by the glow of his phone. As the white-haired man got comfy and propped his phone against a pillow again, Ethari let his gaze drift across Runaan’s brows and lashes, the curves of his cheekbones. His vision doubled, and he watched as Runaan materialized next to him with all his long gleaming hair loose and thick, lit only by phone screen light. The alluring apparition rolled him onto his back with a moaning kiss that floated Ethari’s stomach up against his heart and utterly stole his breath. _Mmmff_. _It should be illegal how hot you are._

“What?” Runaan blurted, pausing in the middle of pulling a blanket up to his shoulders.

Ethari froze, wide-eyed. “Did I say that out loud?”

The slight hesitation before Runaan spoke told Ethari he had. “Nope.”

Ethari chuckled. “Well, now I know your tell.”

“I don’t have a tell.”

“Yes you do.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure I should _tell_ you,” Ethari teased.

Runaan brought his phone close to his face and offered Ethari a focused stare. “ _Tell_ me. My _tell_.”

Ethari grinned. “You can’t make me.”

Runaan’s eyes half closed in a squint. “Is that a challenge?” he asked softly.

“It’s a fact,” Ethari sassed. “The Power Look doesn’t work over video chat.” _At least I hope not… or do I?_

Runaan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Roll onto your back.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Runaan shifted on the screen, and Ethari’s perspective changed with it. He bit his lip and grinned as he flopped softly onto his back, holding his phone a foot above his face to match Runaan’s new position. “Good. Now,” Runaan began, taking his sweet time glancing down and adjusting his position as if carefully setting his knees astride Ethari’s ribs and straddling his hips.

“ _Hhhhrgh_ ,” Ethari blurted. His free hand reached toward where Runaan’s thigh would be, half expecting to feel its muscular warmth, and very disappointed when he touched only air.

Runaan grinned down at him from the phone. “That’s what I like to hear.” He leaned closer to the phone he’d propped on his pillow, as if stalking it. Wisps of pale hair that framed his face glowed in the phone’s light, giving him an ethereal look that set Ethari’s heart aflutter. “Do you know what else I like to hear?” he purred, hovering just above his phone.

Ethari brought his phone down as Runaan leaned in, until they were nearly nose to nose. “What?” he asked breathlessly.

“ _My tell_.” Runaan raised an imperious eyebrow to match his expectant tone.

Ethari broke into ecstatic laughter and slid his feet frantically against his mattress as if trying to wriggle to safety. “Oh my god, you _have_ to stop, it’s too hot! Mercy, please!”

Runaan chuckled and grinned. “Mercy request accepted. How about puppy dog eyes?” He batted his lashes and pouted sadly.

“Aah, nooo,” Ethari protested. He sat up in bed, plopped the phone in the empty blanket space between his knees, and leaned over it. His brows rode high as he said, “Not the sads. I’d never do that to you.”

Runaan took his cue from Ethari’s sudden movement and flopped backward onto his own bed, holding his phone over his face so that his position matched Ethari’s. His eyes trailed down meaningfully, as if he could see Ethari scooted tightly against his butt. “Looks like I’m the one who needs to beg for mercy.”

“You don’t need to beg, and you’ll always have all the mercy I can give,” Ethari said softly. “I’d never hurt you, Runaan.”

“So… service top?” Runaan’s voice was a syrupy mixture of sass and sleepiness that Did Things to Ethari’s already elevated heart rate.

Ethari’s eyebrows flexed as he grinned. “When I top.”

Runaan gazed up at him from the phone, eyes wide, lips parted in a ghost of a smile. “You’re the softest man I’ve ever met, Ethari,” he murmured. “It takes a strong man to be soft. I’m not sure I can manage it…” His gaze dropped again, to the side.

Ethari’s chest filled with warm swirls, and he leaned closer to his phone. “Hey, hey. I never asked you to be perfect. But you keep being perfect… for _me_. And that’s enough. That’s more than enough.”

Runaan’s expression sharpened. His mouth opened as if he would say something, but no sound came out, and his eyes seemed to shine a little brighter in the phone’s glow. “Will you stay on until I fall asleep tonight?” he whispered.

Ethari let an ecstatic sigh slip through his smile. “I’d like that.”

Runaan tucked himself in again, hugging the pillow Ethari had used, and smiled shyly at his phone, now propped against something hard and metallic. “Good night, Ethari.” His bright eyes fluttered closed.

“Good night, Runaan. Sweet dreams.”

Runaan smiled and let out a huge sigh as his arms squeezed the dark blue pillow. In two minutes flat, his breathing evened out.

Ethari watched Runaan sleep peacefully for half an hour before he remembered his data bill. Reluctantly, he kissed the screen good night. “Love you, broodiful.”

***

Runaan took as deep a breath as he could, considering the stabbing ache in his side, and checked his reflection for blood as he pulled open the glass door to Ethari’s eyeglass shop. His nose had finally stopped dripping, it seemed, but it felt like he’d stuffed a tiny sun up there, and it was radiating an uncomfortable amount of heat too close to his eyes, which were watering constantly.

_Broken again. At least it matches the rest of me._

But Runaan’s new glasses had somehow been spared breakage and had only bent on impact. And they needed to be repaired. Immediately. Nothing was of higher importance.

The security consultant stepped inside the warm shop and paused in a bright square of sunlight, his eyes seeking the one man he desperately needed to see, however blurrily.

“Runaan?”

There he was, at the back counter with Opeli and another customer, a fuzzy vision in charcoal, sporting a purple tie. Ethari murmured quickly to Opeli, who nodded, and he left his customer in her care and strode across the slender old floorboards, beaming.

His smile faltered as he drew closer, and his eyes latched onto the puffy scrape across Runaan’s cheekbone, then the red break across the bridge of his nose. He glanced over his shoulder and hurried closer, settling his hand lightly around Runaan’s upper arm. “What happened?”

Runaan let a small whimper escape through his smile. His boyfriend was alright. Runaan hadn’t trusted that he would be. He’d needed to see for himself. He mirrored Ethari’s grip, squeezing his arm in reassurance. “Just a misunderstanding.”

Ethari gently tilted Runaan’s chin up, his concerned coppery gaze catching along the freshly blossoming bruises under his eyes. His other hand fished a dead leaf out of Runaan’s disheveled ponytail and then tightened protectively around Runaan’s arm. “ _This_ is from a misunderstanding?”

It hadn’t been a misunderstanding. It had been timed perfectly, that first punch to the face. Runaan’s glasses had been knocked right off. Then the rabbit punch to the nose, breaking it. The hand around his throat. The brick wall he got slammed into. The knee to the gut, popping something loose. All in the space of two seconds, and no one on the street the wiser, thanks to the pre-selected dark alley Runaan had been walking past on his way to the warehouse.

A truly skilled introduction. Runaan knew exactly who he was dealing with from the very first strike, even if he’d never set eyes on the man before. When his opponent let him go, he braced one hand against his thigh and wrapped his other arm around his abdomen as he caught his breath. “Pleased to meet you too,” he grated.

“You know who I am?” The taller man’s voice held a curious smile.

All Runaan could see of him was a very expensive pair of black leather boots. “I know who sent you. It’s the same thing.” Runaan gingerly pressed his left hand against his ribs and felt an unpleasant _sliding_ somewhere inside him. _Got another screw loose, I guess._

“It’s really not, darling.”

Runaan felt a firm finger under his chin and let out a grumpy huff as his gaze was directed upward. On the way up to the man’s face, he got an eyeful of dramatic goth clothing spangled with a few very long loops of golden jewelry. The ebony-skinned man smiled down at him charmingly from a face with broad cheekbones, a wide sturdy nose, and full lips that were used to smiling. At the moment, though, the smile and the eyes didn’t match. He pulled off the thick black beanie that rode the back of his head, and a long curly mane of aurora-dyed hair tumbled over his shoulders in what looked like a spiral waterfall made from the northern lights.

Runaan had heard rumors about that hair. And its overly dramatic owner. “Harry, right?” Runaan asked, forcing himself upright. “Viren must be nervous if he’s brought you in. Any truth to the rumors that you’re related to Betsy?”

“Betsy de Vos is a rot in the system,” Harry de Vos growled.

Runaan offered him a pained smile as he shook his head. “Don’t make me agree with you, Harry. It isn’t seemly.”

“My preferred name, darling, is Aaravos.” The enforcer picked Runaan up by his shirt front and slammed him against the brick wall again, pinning him there with his feet off the ground without visible effort.

Runaan winced as his head bounced off the brick for the second time, but his feet were already lashing out. One caught Aaravos just above his inner knee, buckling it, and the other connected with his chest. Runaan braced against the wall and shoved hard, and Aaravos stumbled away, dropping him onto a few crushed and winter-soaked cardboard boxes. Runaan curled around his aching side and landed hard on his right, feeling something sharp pierce through the sleeve of his pea coat. “ _Nngh_ , dammit. I like this coat.”

Aaravos caught himself against a dumpster and brushed idly at his ruffled black shirt, flicking away dirt deposited by Runaan’s shoe. “Feisty. I can see why he likes you.”

Adrenaline rocketed through Runaan’s limbs at Aaravos’s implied threat against Ethari. In a blink, he was back on his feet. His breath seethed through teeth gritted in pain and anger. “ _Don’t_.”

“Oh, I don’t have to,” the enforcer said airily. He brushed a pale pink tress over his shoulder and offered Runaan a charmingly smug smile. “I have everything I need from you already.” He began to tuck his gleaming curls back inside his heavy black beanie as he headed for the alley’s mouth. “I’ll see you s—”

Runaan had begun carrying the day Ferg had warned him that Einhorn’s man knew his name. Now that man had made his acquaintance. _How prompt_. Runaan slid his gun from its holster on the back of his belt and cocked it in the quiet alley. Its barrel found Aaravos in its sights.

Aaravos paused with his hands on his hat and turned his head slightly, waiting. The tension in his shoulders, the way he slid his left boot into a wider stance, the light flex in his knees, all told Runaan that Aaravos was absolutely ready to throw down. The smirk that rode his lips added a postscript: he’d enjoy it, too.

Runaan wouldn’t. He’d had far too much pain recently. But if it meant keeping this guy away from Ethari, he had no choice. “I hope we understand each other,” Runaan murmured.

Aaravos turned and lowered his hands very slowly, watching Runaan intently. His eyes roamed Runaan in return, picking up his shaky breathing, the slight tremble in his gun hand, the blood leaking from his nose and staining his blue shirt, and most importantly, the steady fire in his cold turquoise eyes. Aaravos pressed his left hand to his own chest, offering a slight bow. “I believe we do.”

Runaan grimaced and adjusted his grip on the pistol. “Stay away from him.”

Aaravos raised one slender, night-black brow. “Stick to the plan, darling, and I won’t need to come within a mile of your precious mans.”

Runaan’s own brows drew tight. “ _The_ plan? What plan?”

Aaravos’s smile was patient and a little condescending. “You have more than one? No? Pity. Do your best, and you’ll never see me again.”

The fae man offered another slight bow, adjusted his beanie once more, and glided out of the alley.

Runaan holstered his weapon and found his glasses on the ground a few feet away, twisted and bent, but not broken. Not even scratched.

Every now and again, fate was unmistakably clear with her intentions. Runaan pocketed the dark blue frames, dabbed at his bleeding nose, and headed straight downtown.

“We worked it out,” he assured Ethari as he stood just inside the eyeglass shop doors. “Everything’s fine. Except these.” Runaan dipped a hand into his coat pocket and held up the battered frames Ethari had lovingly helped him choose three weeks ago.

Ethari gasped and cradled them in one hand. His gaze flew between Runaan’s face and the damaged glasses as he tried to mentally reconstruct what had happened.

Runaan’s hand closed gently over the bent frames, interrupting Ethari’s alarmed thoughts. “Don’t, Ethari. It’s over. I promise.”

Ethari’s breathing had sped up, though, and he was frowning at the glasses. “We should call the police.”

“No. No police.”

“Runaan. Someone punched you in the face.” Ethari slid a hand comfortingly upward toward Runaan’s shoulder. “If we don’t—”

Runaan hissed and twitched his arm free from Ethari’s touch, and Ethari looked at his fingers in horror. A wet slick of Runaan’s blood coated them.

“Okay, so, this is blood, and blood means hospital.”

Runaan’s stomach churned with three years’ worth of intense and traumatic memories. His throat closed, and he bit down on a surge of nauseated revulsion. “ _No_. No hospitals either. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, no, you are _not_ using that line on me today, hon.” Ethari took Runaan’s upper arm in his hands and tried to spot the source of Runaan’s bleeding.

“It’s just a broken bottle from the alley,” Runaan insisted. “It’ll come right out.”

Ethari gave him an incredulous look. “You’re damn right it will. Holy shit, okay, come with me. We’re doing this.”

“Ethari, wait…” Runaan managed to tug him to a halt as he began to pull him toward the back of the shop.

Ethari looked back at him, exasperated and determined. “What?”

Runaan couldn’t get the words past his lips, so he just stammered softly for a moment and tried another tack. “Can you help me instead?”

To his utter relief, Ethari took his request seriously. “I, I _can_ , but I don’t think it’s such a good—”

Runaan squeezed Ethari’s wrist. “Please. I didn’t come to trouble you, just to get my glasses fixed—”

“Runaan—”

“Please,” he repeated, softly.

Ethari cupped his undamaged cheek and studied his face closely. His own brows bent sharply with worry. Finally he let out a small sigh. “Okay. We’ll do this your way.”

“And my glasses, too, right? I… I need them.”

Ethari gently tucked the glasses back in Runaan’s pocket. “Yes. After. Right now, you’re coming with me.”

He dragged his injured boyfriend right past Opeli and the other customer. The customer eyed them curiously, but Opeli’s eyes widened fully as she looked from one to the other. “Ethari, what are you doing?” she hissed under her breath.

Runaan squeezed Ethari’s hand tightly, hoping that he had a perfectly reasonable excuse close to hand.

To Opeli, Ethari said, “I need the bathroom for a few minutes. Won’t take long.” And he kept walking.

Runaan managed a wide-eyed blush at Opeli as he was towed past her. “Sorry for the mess we’re going to make,” he offered quietly. “I’ll clean it up.”

Opeli let out a tiny hiccup of shock and just swiveled on her high stool, returning to the customer’s attention as if nothing had happened at all.

As Runaan was pulled around into the back hallway, then down another side hall, he faintly heard the customer ask, “What was that all about?”

He choked at Opeli’s breezy reply: “Oh, you know. Newlyweds.”

Ethari pushed open the bathroom door while Runaan quietly bled onto his own shirt some more. The coast was clear, so Runaan let Ethari lead him inside. The room had two stalls, and Ethari opened the first one, pulling Runaan in after him.

“Sit on the tank,” he ordered softly. He put his hands on Runaan’s hips and slid past him, backing him up until he could perch on the pale green 1960s toilet tank and prop his feet on the matching seat. Ethari stripped a long trail of toilet paper from the dispenser, wound it around his fingers, put it in Runaan’s hand, and pressed it against his bleeding nose. “Wait right here. I’ll get the kit.”

Runaan nodded. He sat quietly while Ethari fetched the first aid kit and tried to stay calm. _I’ve never done this with Ethari, so it can’t be like before. It’ll be different. Different is good._

His side ached dully, and he felt his ribs with careful fingers. The surgeon had told him this would happen if he got hit just wrong. It was supposed to happen, in fact. A failsafe. He’d practiced reattaching it dozens of times. But it hadn’t been inside him then.

His stomach churned as he tried to press the slender rib hook back into place. Shivering from the unfamiliar internal sensation, he couldn’t quite make himself push it far enough to slide back into place.

“What are you doing?” Ethari hurried over and clasped his wrist gently.

“Nothing, just, um. Maintenance?” Runaan stumbled over the lingo Amaya had suggested he use.

“What? Let’s stop the bleeding first, okay? Everything else comes after that. And I brought you some Tylenol. Can you swallow okay?” He set down the first aid kit and held out a packet of Tylenol and a Dixie cup of water.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Runaan accepted the pills and carefully downed them with a gulp of cold water that briefly dimmed the radiant heat of his broken nose. Then he braced against the pain in his injured arm as Ethari slowly helped him out of his pea coat.

“There we go, hon. Good job.” Ethari dropped the coat to the floor and reached for the buttons on Runaan’s sky blue shirt. “Let’s get this off next—”

Runaan seized his hands instinctively and then hissed in pain as the glass dug into his arm.

“Runaan?”

“W-Wait…”

“Runaan, I can’t wait. You’re actively bleeding here.”

Runaan sent him a pleading look and squeezed his hands. He couldn’t even begin to put into words what he wanted, it ran so deep in his soul. The very thought of taking his shirt off, of letting Ethari see the damage across his skin, sent shivers of terror through him.

Ethari’s eyes lingered on Runaan’s wound for a long moment. Then he dragged his gaze to Runaan’s face. “Okay, I have something to say, but it might take a couple of minutes, and I’m not comfortable letting you just bleed while I say it.” He rested a careful hand along Runaan’s cheek and kissed his forehead softly. Then he loosened his purple silk tie. As Runaan watched warily, Ethari set a thick gauze pad over the wound on his arm and wrapped the tie carefully around it, tying it off with an efficient knot. Runaan winced, but Ethari’s hands were as gentle as they could be.

His boyfriend sat down, straddling the seat and tucked his hands behind Runaan’s knees in a mirror of how they’d sat in the main shop room during Runaan’s glasses fitting. “You’re scared of something, that much is clear,” he murmured. “I don’t know what it is, and you don’t have to tell me. But I hope you’ll listen while I talk for a second. I’ve been around the block a time or two, and I’ve seen some interesting things. Not all of them good. Seen some interesting people, too. Not all of them were good, either. I know what I like, and I know what I want. I know what I’ll do and what I won’t do. And one thing I will _never_ do, okay, is leave someone hurt when I could help them. I’ve been abandoned. It’s not the best way to spend a Saturday night. So I want you to understand that it doesn’t matter what’s under your shirt. I’m helping you anyway. You feel me?”

Runaan nodded automatically, but he knew those were just kind words—

“You want to wear my shirt while I patch up your arm?” Ethari added.

Runaan’s eyes widened. _Oh. He really is paying attention to me._ “Uh, no, no, you’re at work. Maybe just… help me take off… this one side?”

“You sure?” Ethari said smilingly. “I seem to remember you kinda liked me without a shirt on.” Ethari popped a couple of buttons loose on his shirt to demonstrate his willingness.

Despite the pain and his anxiety, Runaan huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty hot. But I couldn’t ask you to.”

Ethari eased his hands up to Runaan’s shirt buttons again. “Well, I tell you what, Mister ‘Just A Misunderstanding.’” He slowly undid the top button, gauging Runaan’s reaction.

“What’s that?” Runaan asked faintly, hypersensitive to every little movement Ethari was making. The heat from his hands felt strong enough to rival the throbbing in his broken nose.

Ethari moved to the next button. “If you’re a very good patient, maybe I’ll take my shirt off for you later.”

“ _Nnhhh_. Ethari, don’t make my blood pressure shoot up like that. Guy broke my nose.”

“He better not let me catch him,” Ethari growled.

The protective rumble in Ethari’s chest was very distracting. “Th-That is not helping my blood pressure,” Runaan murmured.

“Sorry, not sorry. Hold your shirt however you want, now. I’ve got all the buttons undone.”

Surprised at how well Ethari had distracted him, Runaan automatically pressed a hand over the center of his scars. “Okay, ready.”

Ethari untied his purple tie and peeled Runaan’s shirt off his right shoulder slowly and carefully, mindful of the glass fragment still embedded in his arm. It still hurt, but Runaan knew Ethari wouldn’t cause him pain on _purpose_ , and that did help his blood pressure.

Though his hand pressed the left side of his shirt tightly over his scars—and dislocated rib hook—he still heard his boyfriend’s soft gasp at the sight of the long, trailing scars that escaped beyond the edge of his shirt. Runaan couldn’t meet his eyes. He stiffened and held his breath, gazing at the floor and waiting for Ethari’s judgment. Years’ worth of inadequacies and failures crawled through his brain like hungry worms. Surely Ethari could guess at the disaster that lurked under Runaan’s hand.

“Let’s get that arm patched up.” Ethari’s voice was gentle as he positioned Runaan’s arm with his elbow atop his own knee. He frowned at the wound, unsettled, but he didn’t show any signs of running and screaming.

“It’s deeper than it looks,” Runaan said. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to—”

Ethari pulled a tiny tool kit from his belt and flipped open the leather flap. “I think this will help.” He rubbed the hefty tweezers with an alcohol swab, took a deep breath, and held Runaan’s arm still.

Runaan compartmentalized the pain under Acceptable Because Helpful and let his eyes drift across Ethari’s focused expression. The delicate, sure motions of his fingers spoke volumes about his manual dexterity. Runaan suddenly didn’t believe Ethari anymore when he’d said that he only had good reflexes here in the eyeglass shop.

“Broken bottle, huh?” Ethari murmured as he worked.

“Mm.”

Ethari freed one glass fragment and set it on a folded tissue. “Anyone holding it at the time?”

“No. It was hidden under some cardboard when I fell. I’m not sure me getting this hurt was the intent.”

“Oh, so there _was_ intent? Not just a misunderstanding?” His boyfriend’s voice took on a hint of callout.

Runaan winced as another fragment lifted free under Ethari’s expert attention. “The misunderstanding was mine. It worked out.”

“He broke your nose, Runaan.”

“And I nearly shot him. And _then_ , it worked out.” _I hope._

Ethari’s sigh was distinctly disapproving, but his hands remained as gentle as ever on Runaan’s arm. “So, since it’s all so worked out, can I live in hope that this won’t happen again?”

Runaan pressed his lips together and looked aside, brows riding high, distinctly not answering.

One of Ethari’s dark brows climbed his forehead, and though his expression was exasperated, his tone was soft. “Guess I’ll need to sign up for some field medic courses.”

Runaan glanced back at him, feeling a slender thread of hope. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Ethari began irrigating the wound with a squeeze bottle of distilled water. “Oh, I think I can make sure it does.” He squirted the water again, harder than necessary, making a splattering mess on the bathroom floor.

“Ow. Hey,” Runaan protested, trying to dodge the clear stream. “I didn’t come here for you to patch me up, remember? I could’ve done this myself.”

Ethari paused. “Why did you come, then, really?”

Runaan got lost in Ethari’s soft gaze. “I…” _Needed to know that you were safe_. “…bent my frames, remember?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’d be a better one if you’d tell me my tell.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ethari grinned softly as he broke out some antibiotic spray and butterfly strips. Once the wound was secure, he covered it with another gauze pad and taped it in place. “There we go. Anything else I can get you today, sir?” he teased in his best customer service voice.

Runaan pressed his smile together. “Yes, I have a list.”

Ethari tended to his various other cuts and scrapes with gentle fingers, and then he offered to tape Runaan’s broken nose. “It’s not out of alignment. But a visual reminder could help others not smack it on accident,” he suggested. “Just a couple strips of tape?” He held up a roll of transpore tape from the first aid kit.

“Not white. Too bright.”

“I can fix that.” Ethari pulled a dark blue sharpie from the kit, available for writing vitals if necessary, and colored in the tape before skillfully ripping it into two even strips. He let Runaan help center them over the break and gingerly press the tape into place. The visual effect was rather striking and oddly familiar, though Ethari couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. “Wow, that’s pretty dashing. Feel okay?”

Runaan looked down his swollen nose and found the blue stripes nice and dark. “Smells like Sharpie, but yeah.”

“Good. Anything else you need, hon?” Ethari’s hands settled at Runaan’s waist, one hand on bare skin and the other against his shirt.

“Y-Yeah. But you don’t have to… it’s…” Runaan shifted his palm across his ribs.

“Private?” Ethari guessed.

“Experimental,” Runaan said.

Ethari’s brows shot up. “Come again?”

A faint flush crossed Runaan’s cheeks, and his jaw tightened. “It’s a long story.”

“What’s the part where I come in?” Ethari asked softly.

Runaan blinked down at him and smiled. “How do you always make everything seem easy?”

“It’s my dashing charm,” Ethari replied with a wink. His hand hovered a few inches above Runaan’s, waiting for permission. “Tell me what you need from me, hon.”

Runaan described the modification that had taken the place of one of his ribs, and how it had unhooked due to the _misunderstanding_ in the alley. “They trained me how to pop it back, but… I’ve never had to do it before. It’s…” Runaan gulped, and his stomach churned.

“Okay, I think I understand.” Ethari stood up slowly and rested his hand atop Runaan’s. “Will you let me help? I won’t look, if we can find a way around it.”

Runaan barked a laugh. “You can do this with your eyes shut?”

“I can do even better. Here, why don’t you lean forward on me and stretch a little. Can you lift your arms to my neck?”

Runaan reached up automatically and found that he could, though his left side pulled uncomfortably around the swelling rib. Ethari lowered himself a bit, and Runaan gingerly eased his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, mindful of his throbbing nose and newly patched-up arm. Despite how many parts of him were currently hurting, he leaned into Ethari’s warmth and sighed against his neck. His shirt hung from just one shoulder now, but their closeness meant Ethari couldn’t see what it had hidden.

Ethari smoothed Runaan’s hair back and kissed the top of his head. “I’m going to start now. Let me know if I hurt you, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay. Here we go.”

Ethari’s warm hands slid down Runaan’s sides and eased across the numb patches and uneven lines that crisscrossed his skin. Runaan sucked in a breath and twitched as if he could hide from Ethari’s hands.

“Easy, I got you,” Ethari murmured.

Runaan’s fingers dug into his collar, and he tried very hard not to whimper out loud. So much rode on this moment that he couldn’t even process it. He could barely breathe, even. He just held on and silently begged Ethari not to leave him while he was so disheveled and vulnerable.

Ethari’s fingers traced along the artificial line of his lowest rib, where Aaravos’s knee had caught him hard. Two digits gently pressed into the divot marking the gap where the hardware had pulled out of place. “This is pretty big. It won’t hurt to push it through?”

Runaan tightened his abs in anticipation. “I can take it, just lean into it and don’t stop.”

Ethari’s answering laugh was soft. “Okay, Tiger. Hold still.” Ethari pressed against Runaan’s artificial rib with one hand and guided with the other, sliding the metal rod ever so slowly beneath his skin.

The nausea returned, and Runaan groaned, hissing a breath between his teeth.

“Should I slow down?” Ethari asked quickly.

“Just keep pushing. It’ll fit. It’s almost there, don’t you dare stop.”

Ethari’s voice was tense and breathy. “God, I don’t want to hurt you, are you _sure_?”

“ _Nnngh_ , shit _, god_ , okay, wait. Wait, let me just…” Runaan hitched a breath and adjusted his position forward on the tank, then repositioned his arms around Ethari’s neck for a better stretch. “Okay, try now, but I mean it. Just shove it up there.”

Ethari pushed hard, and they both felt the tiny metal click as the rib hooked itself back in place. The force of his action slid Runaan backward and clanked the tank lid against the wall with a hollow _thunk_.

“ _Ngggh,_ _holy_ …” Runaan’s curses devolved into desperate groans that escaped through his gritted teeth.

Ethari’s hands steadied him at the ribs, offering light backpressure while Runaan breathed through the sharpness. “All the way in now, yeah? Right where it belongs.” He dropped another soft, encouraging kiss atop Runaan’s hair.

“Yeah,” Runaan gasped, “j-just give me a second, gotta breathe through it…”

“You did great, hon. I’m proud of you.” Ethari eased him back until he leaned against the wall, and Runaan let out a stifled groan at the shift in position. “How’s that? Still okay?”

“Y-Yeah, _nngh_ , just let me catch my breath.” He clasped a hand across his ribs, pinning his shirt back in place.

“Take your time. We’ll go when you’re ready.” He leaned down for a slow, sweet kiss, very careful to avoid bumping Runaan’s taped nose.

Runaan closed his eyes and caught his breath against Ethari for a long moment. Then he gingerly felt for his bloodied shirt sleeve. He began to slide it back along his arm while Ethari helped ease the cloth over the bandage for him. “Okay, I think I’m—”

Opeli’s voice interrupted in a frantic stage whisper that made both men jump. “ _Ethari_! Ethari, listen, I am _begging_ you, I didn’t _hear_ anything and I didn’t _see_ anything, but if you fuck your boyfriend on the toilet tank in here it will definitely break and leak all over the floor. That thing is older than I am—”

Ethari’s eyes went wide, and Runaan could see his mental calculations march right across his expressive face as he reviewed every word they’d said over the last minute or so.

“Oh _shit_ ,” they chorused quietly, Runaan grinning, Ethari merely chagrined.

Opeli’s frantic whispering continued at the bathroom door, “—And then I’ll have to submit a request for plumbing repair, and I’ll have to explain what happened to Mr. Finnegan, and you _know_ how he got after the last time we had a shady maintenance request—”

Runaan was in silent stitches, clutching his side hard and dabbing at his nose with a knuckle as he tried not to laugh aloud. Ethari gave him a glare of mock outrage and whipped open the stall door. “Opeli, what are you talking about?” he asked in a very innocent and baffled manner.

Runaan had half a second to be impressed with his acting skills before Opeli blurted, “Is that _blood_? What the hell kind of—”

Ethari folded his arms, giving Runaan a fine view of his shoulder muscles through his charcoal shirt, and stared patiently in Opeli’s direction.

Runaan groused to himself about her apparent inability to notice that Ethari was fully clothed because she was so focused on her assumptions. He slid off the tank and took a deep breath, testing the new reset of his rib. Ethari had done a great job. He ran his fingers along the prosthetic, following the places Ethari had pushed, imagining his boyfriend’s fingers there again, not judging Runaan for being broken, only helping him to reset. _It’s just maintenance_.

He finished buttoning his shirt, gingerly retrieved his coat and Ethari’s bloodied tie, and stepped out beside his boyfriend. Offering the tie, he said, “Thanks. I’m sorry you had to sacrifice your tie as a makeshift bandage. I’ll get you a replacement.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ethari said as he accepted the stained silk. “I couldn’t have you bleeding out, could I?” His smile was soft.

Runaan cleared his throat and looked at Opeli, who was taking in his appearance with shock: cut and bloodied sleeve, untucked shirt, blue tape across a swelling nose, scraped cheekbone. “I suppose a corpse in the bathroom would be bad, too, wouldn’t it?” he asked her softly.

Her entire face did a remarkable impression of a tomato. “I, I am _so sorry_. I… are you okay? What happened? Should I call the paramedics?”

“No,” Ethari said quickly. “We’re all done. I’ll clean up in here real quick—no, Runaan,” he began, as Runaan protested that he’d offered the same to Opeli earlier, “one of us has zero broken bones, so that one should mop. House rule.”

Runaan’s brows shot up. “House rule?”

“House rule,” Ethari insisted, meeting his eyes.

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Opeli said, still pink. “I’ll grab some things from the maintenance closet.” Her eyes darted between the two men. “God, I’m such an _idiot_. I’m so sorry.” She let the door close and headed to fetch supplies.

The moment it shut, Ethari’s hands were back on Runaan, holding him gently, and his breath puffed against Runaan’s ear. “You sure you’re alright? God, you scared me. Is this what it’s going to be like, dating you? I’m gonna need a minute to let my heart calm down.”

Runaan’s fingers tightened around Ethari’s triceps. “Maybe I like your heart rate elevated around me.”

Ethari pulled back and looked him in the eye with mock outrage. “This is not romantic, Runaan! This was scary! How dare you—” He broke off as Runaan began chuckling, then he tried again. “How dare… How… What’s so funny?” He broke into reluctant chuckles along with his boyfriend. “Seriously, what the hell is so funny about this?”

Runaan took his boyfriend’s face in his hands and kissed him with warm passion. “Heroes always do it scared. But they still do it. You’re my hero.”

Ethari’s dark brows climbed in soft amazement.

With a cheeky wink, Runaan added, “And you make a very good service top, too.”

Ethari’s cheeks flushed dark. “I’ll make you a regular maintenance schedule,” he threatened softly.

Runaan hummed in interest. “Promise?”

Ethari gently pulled him close again. His fingers trailed through Runaan’s hair, smoothing the alley’s tangles. “Promise. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Runaan let Ethari hold him for a few moments before he relaxed into the soft touch. “Me too.”

Opeli bustled in with hands full of gloves and paper towels and cleaning solutions and a mop. She took one look at the men as they embraced and gazed softly into each other’s eyes. “I ain’t sayin’ nothing this time. Here you go.”

Ethari grinned mischievously at Runaan and accepted the armful of supplies. “Thanks, Opeli. I’ll be back out soon.”

She offered them a fond _tsk_ and left, and Ethari turned back to Runaan. “You want to wait in the lobby until I’m done in here?”

“Why? This is my blood. I should be helping you.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You did the bleeding. That was plenty contribution to the mess.” Ethari looked morosely toward the pink splatters of blood and distilled water across the floor. “Too much, I’d say…”

Runaan took his chin and turned his face back towards him. “No, don’t do that. It’s done, I’ve shed it, it’s over. And you patched me up, so I won’t lose any more. Things get lost in combat. That’s how it is. You pick up what you have left, and you move on.”

Ethari blinked at the deep certainty in Runaan’s voice. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He gave Runaan a soft kiss and got to work cleaning up.

Runaan rested one thigh atop the sink counter in the corner to wait, but his mind circled around and around his own words. _Did I really just say that? ‘You pick up what you have left, and you move on’? I sounded like I meant it, too. I mean, I did mean it, for Ethari. But…_ His thoughts swirled hard around the heavy boulder in his memories, that immoveable weight that had landed on him three years ago and never seemed to weigh any less. _I want to move on, too. How do I shift this thing? How do I pick up what’s left, when it’s so heavy? I feel like I’ve wriggled out from under it, but I’m shackled to it now. I can never get out of its sight. It’s always tugging at me._

His eyes clung to Ethari as he bustled around the bathroom, cleaning and humming, and his chest tightened with longing. _I love this man. But I don’t know a damn thing, not a single damn thing. I just love him. Please, can that be enough?_

_I want it to be enough._

***

Ethari gave Runaan’s frames every bit of his focus as he worked out the dents and tweaks. He cleaned them thoroughly, too, if only to get rid of the violence vibe they were carrying. After one more once-over, he held them out to Runaan, who had been sitting patiently for a few minutes in the high seat across the table from him. “Okay, ready to try?”

Runaan nodded, and Ethari slipped them ever so carefully onto his face, resting the nose pieces atop the upper strip of blue tape to spread out the weight.

Runaan made a small noise of displeasure, and Ethari lifted them off his nose. “It’s too much, isn’t it? You probably shouldn’t wear these for a few days until the swelling goes down.”

Runaan rested his fingers around Ethari’s wrist. “I want to make sure they’ll fit.”

“You can come back in when your nose is feeling a little better, Runaan. It’s okay.”

Runaan lifted the glasses from Ethari’s hand and put them on, squinting through the discomfort of their weight. “This will do for now. But I may come back in after the swelling goes down.” He pressed gingerly at the puffy skin next to his nose and winced.

Ethari pulled his hand away. “Gently.”

Runaan tsked. “I’ve done this before.”

Ethari tsked back. “So have I.”

They sat assessing each other for a long moment. But they couldn’t stay cross with one another for long. Reluctantly, Ethari grinned, and Runaan returned it with a sassy edge.

Ethari leaned forward and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. “You should go home and rest. Put some ice on that nose.”

Runaan raised one brow and blinked puffily at him with a crooked grin. “Maybe I want to sit here and ache a bit longer.”

Ethari let out a baffled chuckle, hoping Runaan was only teasing. “Oh, that reminds me! I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Wh—I’m not _sad,_ I’m—” Runaan tried to protest, but Ethari was already striding across the old hardwood floor. He fetched the white box with the turquoise ribbon from the pocket of his coat and headed back to where Runaan sat. The way Runaan’s eyes widened at the sight of the box put a fizzy warmth in Ethari’s tummy.

He sat at the little table again and centered the box carefully between them as precisely as if it were a case containing the most expensive frames on the wall. Then he slid it over to Runaan with an eager smile. “It’s time you had this.”

Runaan sat up straighter, eyes locked on the box. They both knew how tangled their relationship had gotten because of what lay inside. But Ethari didn’t feel that made the gift any less precious. If anything, it made giving it to Runaan even more critical.

“Go on,” Ethari prompted softly. “It’s yours.”

Runaan drew the box closer with his fingertips. “You made this yourself?” he murmured.

“I did.”

Runaan tugged at the turquoise ribbon. “Am I allowed to guess what’s inside?”

Ethari’s eyes twinkled. “You sure are.”

Ethari’s prompt and pleased reply put a smile on Runaan’s face. As his fingers lifted the lid, he said, “I bet it’s one of your recycling creations, isn’t it—oh my _god_ —” His eyes went wide as he stared down into the box, and his face froze in the softest, most amazed expression Ethari had ever seen him wear. His brows flexed up and down like moth’s wings as he tried to pick a single expression to represent his feelings about the gift in the box.

Ethari bit his lip nervously. “Runaan…? Is it okay?”

Runaan reached reverently into the shallow box and lifted out the silvery creation, an ornate hair ornament formed of intertwined Viking knots around a pair of hollow moons. His eyes roamed over the intricate metalwork Ethari had crafted, taking in the woven dragons, the white wrapped-leather accents, the tiny butterflies hidden among the knotwork. The side-by-side moons dominated the design, each with a bright silvery crescent and a dark, wide hollow that sprouted a slender throwing dagger in a metallic gradient sheath. The weapons’ hilts sported abalone shell with crescent moon cutouts and delicate flickers of silverwork.

“You made _this_ … for _me_?” Runaan breathed, unable to tear his eyes from Ethari’s stunning creation. He balanced the ornament carefully on his fingertips, elbows on the table top, drinking in its details all over again.

“Just for you.” Ethari almost asked again what Runaan thought of it, but the man seemed to be having quite a moment and he didn’t want to interrupt, so he bit his lip and studied Runaan’s expression eagerly, relishing his obvious joy.

Runaan tipped the ornament from side to side, admiring the way the bright shop lights played over its silvery surfaces. Then he touched one of the dagger hilts, and it moved. He pulled away as if worried he’d damaged it, but his fingers went right back to it and pulled properly.

The slender throwing dagger slid out of its sheath with a metallic whisper, and Runaan gasped, slowly and audibly, at the sight of the sharp-tipped weapon.

He finally raised his eyes to Ethari’s, and Ethari’s heart sang at the sight of his boyfriend’s soft amazement. Every second of his all-nighter suddenly seemed more than worth it. Even his disastrous sleep deprivation faded into unimportance in the radiant glow of Runaan’s pure and unadulterated admiration.

Runaan’s foot plunked onto the footrest Ethari’s tall chair. His other foot followed, and he squeezed Ethari’s feet happily between his own. “You weaponized a _hair ornament_ for me.”

Ethari’s grin was crooked. “Seemed like kinda your thing.”

Runaan’s chest heaved lightly, and his eyes clung to Ethari’s. Ethari let his feet tangle lightly with Runaan’s under the table, rubbing his toes reassuringly along his boyfriend’s calf.

“I’m far too beat up right now to express my feelings properly,” Runaan murmured breathlessly. “But please, Ethari, believe me when I say that this is the best gift I’ve received in _years_. Maybe ever.”

Taken aback at the heartfelt shimmer in Runaan’s voice, Ethari could only stammer, “I… Okay, wow, that’s… I’m glad you like it so much. I really am.”

Runaan leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “I should get that ice. Walk me to the door.”

Ethari tied the ribbon back around the box for him and slipped his gift into Runaan’s coat pocket. Then he pulled him to his feet and walked slowly toward the sunlit glass door with him.

They paused inside, lit by the golden afternoon sun, and Runaan slipped his fingers around Ethari’s wrist, feeling his pulse. “Thank you again for taking care of me. In all the ways.”

Ethari slid his free hand inside Runaan’s coat and rested it gently against his hip. “This is more than workout bruises.” His troubled gaze found Runaan’s, but he didn’t insult the man by asking if he was okay. He clearly wasn’t.

“Yes.” Runaan eased Ethari’s hand up until it rested over the worst of his scars. “You’re being more than patient with me, and… I…”

“It’s from the incident? The one that was all over the news?” he asked quietly.

Runaan flinched under his hand, but Ethari spread his fingers lightly, trying to calm him.

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t owe me any details you’re not ready to share. I haven’t asked, and I won’t ask. This is your story, and you can tell it—or not—whenever you want to.”

In response, Runaan folded Ethari’s fingers under until just his index finger remained. Then he traced it across his chest in what felt like a bandolier full of escaping snakes. Ethari felt his own chest heaving as he tried to imagine what these rough scars felt like to Runaan. When Runaan moved Ethari’s hand around the back edge of his ribs, Ethari pulled him in for a gentle but fervent hug, mindful of his fresher injuries.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, nearly in tears.

“Why?” Runaan responded gently, leaning into the hug. “ _You_ didn’t do this.”

With his emotions riding so high they nearly spilled out of his eyes, Ethari managed to say, “I’m sorry you had to feel it. It must’ve been awful.”

Runaan stiffened a little, holding back more secrets. Then he took a breath, relaxed, and said, “What’s your opinion on simple little bullet hole scars?”

Ethari pulled back and looked him in the eye. “What?”

Runaan offered a flash of a smile. “Got a couple of those, too.”

Ethari tucked his head against Runaan’s neck and pulled him into another hug. “Okay, I think that’s enough for me to handle right now.”

Runaan smoothed a hand along his back. “Sorry…”

“No, no. It’s just… you’re a lot. I guess you always will be. I just need to take you in little bites, is all.”

Runaan’s hum of interest rumbled through his chest. “You get hungry too, hmm?”

Ethari’s arms tightened around his boyfriend. “Please tell me that this job of yours will be easy and safe.”

Runaan’s hands captured Ethari’s face, and his kiss was sudden, if gentle for the sake of his nose. “Just a couple of merchant princes exchanging a crown. Nothing could be simpler.”

Ethari blinked at the unprompted information. “An actual crown?” he murmured.

“It’s technically a tiara. The Light of Katolis. Very sparkly. You’d like it.”

“I bet I would.”

“Maybe I can get you a peek.”

Ethari tsked. “Runaan, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious.”

“Okay, yes, yes you are. But quit playing. You can’t take me on your job with you, and you _need_ to go home and put some _ice_ on your nose.”

Runaan gave him a soft peck. “Make me leave you, I dare you.”

Ethari’s face crinkled into a sassy grin. “If you don’t leave this shop this instant and go take care of yourself, I will drag you to the ice cream parlor down the block and slap a chocolate-vanilla soft serve on your nose.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Runaan grinned and pressed his cheek to Ethari’s as he hugged him carefully. “Thank you again.”

“For patching you up, or for not strangling you?”

Runaan’s smile was secretive. “Little of both. A lot for the gift.”

“Text me when you get home. I want photographic evidence that you’re icing your nose.”

Runaan eased from Ethari’s arms, backed toward the door, and opened it slowly with his good arm. “Tsk. So pushy. You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?” He chuckled at Ethari’s look of mock outrage, gave him a departing wink, and sauntered down the street in the sun.

Twenty minutes later, Ethari got a text as he made a new entry in the customer files. It was a picture of Runaan, clearly not at home but in some warehouse type area. Ethari thought he recognized one of the people in the background from the park. But at least Runaan had an ice pack obscuring half of his sassy grin.

“This man really is gonna kill me,” he muttered, unable to help the soft grin that spread across his face. “Unless I kill him first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finding a way to work in sexytalk as non-sexy talk is hilarious to me and I do not apologize. Also, Ethari is a fabulous service top.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but as Ethari starts to learn more about Runaan on his own, he comes up against some very uncomfortable truths.
> 
> Meanwhile, Runaan is beginning to understand exactly how much is at stake as Aaravos hijacks his own plan and toys with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting darker. Runaan's past is not a pretty one. CW for manipulative behavior and separately for blood.

Ethari slapped his laptop monitor shut and tried to calm his breathing, but his apartment felt too small to contain the hurricane of thoughts that shredded through his mind. _Nope. Can’t stay in here with this._

He tugged on a faded Luna State University hoodie and pulled a white beanie over his hair, all the while trying not to envision images from his ill-advised google search. He jammed his keys into his pocket and stepped out into the night. The icy air greeted him like a slap in the face, and he welcomed its brusque distraction.

His feet took the smooth concrete steps two at a time as he headed down to ground level. He’d told Runaan he wouldn’t press him for his story until he was ready, but after seeing his boyfriend’s visceral reaction to having his scars touched, after feeling those scars under his own fingers, Ethari had been preoccupied for the rest of the day. Finally, he couldn’t take the suspense any longer.

He’d googled Runaan’s incident.

It took a while before he found an article that offered a solid lead to the event he was looking for, but once he realized that the famous actor Will Bonnenuit was connected to the elusive incident he sought, it suddenly wasn’t elusive anymore.

All the top hits were sensationalized entertainment-website articles with full-color images of the actor’s charming grin as he posed with this or that actress. None of the posed pictures included Runaan. He thought he caught a glimpse of a long white ponytail in the dark next to a black car in a shot taken by a pursuing paparazzo the month before the incident, though. The information in the articles was very sanitized, dancing around what Ethari began to suspect were some very dark details. With an exasperated huff, Ethari scrolled further down in the search results until he found an article on a regular news website.

It contained an image that arrested Ethari’s attention before he could read very far. Its caption claimed it had been taken at a hospital in Trento, where the actor was whisked for treatment immediately following his escape and subsequent rescue from several extremist hijackers. The picture, though clearly not staged, carried the timeless feel of a classic painting. A doctor sat on a rolling stool and examined his patient’s knee through a torn pant leg, glancing up at the actor in concern as he sat on a medical cot, while two policewomen stood flanking the patient and holding up their uniform jackets to offer him some screening from paparazzi. Clearly one had sneaked through somehow and had caught the actor looking utterly traumatized. The man’s shirt was smeared with blood both fresh and old, and he stared at his own bloodstained hand with such a stricken expression that Ethari’s stomach dropped.

That wasn’t Will Bonnenuit’s blood. It was Runaan’s.

The article went on to say that Mr. Bonnenuit’s personal bodyguard suffered serious injuries in defending him against the hijackers who brought down his private plane in the mountains northeast of the city. The plane had gone down with three surviving hijackers on board. They’d held the men prisoner for two days while attempting to ransom the actor back to his studio. The article clinically noted that the three hijackers did not survive the men’s eventual escape attempt. Ethari’s eyes blurred halfway through the sentence that told him Runaan was “expected to survive emergency surgery, but…”

Ethari wasn’t ready for whatever followed that “but.” His stomach went queasy, and he fled into the night, hoping the cold air would settle his nerves as well as his belly. He gripped his phone tightly in the front pocket of his hoodie, but he didn’t feel like he was in a good enough place to call Runaan. He’d promised not to push for details, but he could sense that he’d end up doing just that if he called his boyfriend right now.

So he walked. He walked, and he tried not to create too many mental pictures.

The streets were quiet and well lit, and he was far more concerned with the turbulence inside his head than any trouble he might meet on the street at that hour.

 _Besides_ , he told himself, _if anything weird does happen, my boyfriend’s a security consultant with a whole team. They’ll probably be here in minutes._

***

“Boss?”

“Yeah, Andi.”

“He’s got a tail.”

Runaan’s stomach twisted and his adrenaline spiked. “Description?”

“African-American male, six and a half feet, two hundred easy. Dressed in all black with a black beanie.”

“Aaravos.” The name slithered between Runaan’s teeth.

Andi kept her tone light in reply. “Ten points to Slytherin. He’s keeping his distance. Doesn’t seem to be contacting anyone.”

Runaan sighed grumpily. That bastard was determined to make Runaan play the game he’d already committed to. _I don’t need your help._

“Track them both, but stick with Ethari if they split up. Report in every five minutes.”

“You got it,” Andi replied. “This fire escape was getting boring anyway. How’s the drilling coming?”

“Almost done for the night. I’ll send someone to spell you soon.”

“Okay, boss. This guy really did a number on you, huh?”

Runaan waited until his heart rate settled a bit more before he replied. “We can’t help who we fall in love with, Andi.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, boss,” Andi teased, “but I was talking about the _other_ guy. Beat you up in an alley this morning? Ringing any bells?”

Runaan felt his gaze narrow, though Andi couldn’t see it. “I expect your next report in five minutes.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Usually not, no.”

Runaan hung up and tried to focus on the action happening in front of him inside the warehouse, but he ended up checking his phone several times over the next fifteen minutes, far more often than Andi’s reports came in.

Ethari was buying a couple of tacos from a food truck while Aaravos lurked half a block away. Then he was pounding out a couple of laps at the public track in the park while Aaravos stood on the swings like a vampire who’d never had a childhood. Yes, Ethari _was_ fast, actually. Did Runaan want her to time him? Well, too late, she already had. Ethari had taken a seat on a bus stop bench and was staring at his phone. Aaravos was approaching with someone’s stolen dog on a leash, did Runaan want her to intervene? No, Runaan was right to tell her to hold off, because it was a feint to draw her out. Aaravos was crossing the street and returning the dog by plopping it across its fence.

The rest of the team had been standing around the warehouse giant chalk sketch of the job’s location and looking worried for a couple of minutes before Runaan noticed their stillness. He looked up and met Ferg’s concerned gaze, sighed, and returned his attention to his latest phone call. “I’ll send someone to spell you at the apartment. Let me know if he heads home before they get there.”

When he hung up, Ferg crossed his arms. “Looks like we’re done here, boys,” he said to the crew. Proper Sam and Other Sam glanced at each other, then at Runaan for confirmation.

Runaan pulled his keys from his pocket and dangled them. “Who wants to drive my car?”

The instant cacophony that followed managed to put a brief grin on his face.

***

Runaan parked his deep green Porsche up the hill from Ethari’s apartment and tapped the fob to lock it. A brief smile crossed his lips. When would his team learn that he didn’t lend his car to anyone? He shoved his hands into his pea coat’s pockets and crossed the street to a sidewalk that had a perfect little nook on the downhill of a low pink apartment building, a great spot to watch Ethari’s building down below without being noticed.

The nook was occupied.

Aaravos nodded cordially, letting the warm golden street lights limn his features. He held out a bedazzled flask.

Runaan stiffened, feeling his freshly patched arm brush against Proper Sam’s sturdy repair stitches in his coat sleeve, but Aaravos made no other move. His nose throbbed under the blue tape Ethari had placed there that morning, and his jaw bunched. He shook his head at the offered liquor. “Is he inside yet?”

A smirk tugged at Aaravos’s mouth as he inclined his head toward Runaan’s pocket. “You tell me, darling.”

Runaan pulled out his phone and checked for another update from Andi, but there wouldn’t be one for another two minutes. His gaze lifted from his phone to the building, and his expression set.

“And for your next trick?” Aaravos prompted. His head gently tilted toward the building.

Runaan eyed him coldly. He had put this plan into motion, and he didn’t dare turn away now. He couldn’t. Not when Ethari was actually in danger. Aaravos’s interference hadn’t been part of the plan. But damn if it wasn’t _heavily_ motivating.

He knew what he had to do, and so did Aaravos. But everything seemed a little too real for comfort just then. Ethari needed protecting. But so did Runaan’s heart. There was one very good reason that he’d told Ethari he couldn’t see him much until the job was done, and it had nothing to do with the job itself. He’d been walking an emotional tightrope for days, and Aaravos had just smacked it with a sledgehammer. Runaan’s next step was mission-critical.

He turned away and sent Andi one final text.

“ _Bon appetit_ ,” Aaravos called softly.

Runaan’s reply required only a single digit and earned him a soft burst of laughter.

***

Ethari came home with his head clearer and fell right into bed. He dreamed of Runaan murmuring soft words in his ear and woke with a smile on his lips. He hummed his way around his apartment, feeling strangely at peace with the knowledge he’d learned last night. It floated in the back of his head like a wispy dream, partly real and partly unreal. It hadn’t truly settled yet, but somehow it didn’t need to.

Ethari’s spoonful of Cheerios was halfway to his mouth when it hit him _why_ it didn’t need to.

Runaan _survived_. He was “expected to survive,” and he _did_.

Tears sprang unexpectedly to Ethari’s eyes, and his spoon trembled. He plopped it back into the bowl and pressed a shaky hand over his mouth.

_I could’ve lost him._

The thought sprang into being as if launching itself forward from the catapult of the past, whistling past his ear in a near miss. Ethari hadn’t known Runaan back then, but if he’d died, either in the attack or during emergency surgery, he and Ethari would never have met.

His other hand joined the first, and his chest heaved lightly for several breaths. As chaotic as his life had been over the last few weeks, his heart fled from the notion that he might’ve lived those weeks in an entirely ordinary way instead.

_I might never have met him._

Ethari scooped up his phone, took a deep breath, and texted Runaan. _How’s your nose this morning?_

Runaan’s reply came in a few bites later. _Good. Thank you again._

Ethari bit his lip. _You sleep okay?_

_Yeah, really good actually. Propped up and everything._

His shoulders slumped in relief. _Glad to hear it. Make sure you don’t overdo it today. You’ve got healing to do._

_Proper Sam and Ferg are excellent field medics. Don’t worry. I really will be fine. I promise._

“‘I’ll be fine,’ he says. Oh my god, I love you so much, you _stupid_ _idiot_ ,” Ethari growled through clenched teeth. He jammed another bite of cereal into his mouth and chewed with a distressed frown while his thumbs flew across his phone screen. _I’ll hold you to that promise. One more hair on your head gets touched and I’m hiring your whole team to hunt someone down._

Runaan’s reply took a couple minutes to come in again. Ethari set his bowl in the sink and glanced down at the new message.

_I’ll take extra good care of my hair then, for your sake._

Ethari gave his phone a lopsided grin and finished getting ready for work. As he crossed the front room, he paused, sniffing curiously. He grinned and picked up his coat from the back of the recliner where he always tossed it. Pressing it to his nose, he inhaled deeply, finding it bursting with Runaan’s scent. He grinned in pleased surprise, uncertain why the world had gifted him this treasure but not minding in the least. As he pulled it on, though, he found a single long white hair resting against the back of one of its shoulders.

He lifted it up against the morning light that shone through his front window and frowned, recalling his text about a single hair from Runaan’s head. Since he was the one doing the touching, he figured he didn’t need to hire any security squads just yet. “I wish there were a hundred thousand more of you here right now.” He wrapped the long strand around his finger until it formed a slender white ring and grinned at it. Then he slipped it onto a hook on his keyholder next to the door and headed to work.

***

Runaan waited two minutes before he cracked open Ethari’s front closet door, peered out, and let his eyes adjust to the light of the room.

He’d slept so well in Ethari’s recliner, elevating his broken nose and injured arm while tucked under his boyfriend’s coat for extra warmth, that he hadn’t woken until Ethari’s alarm went off, almost two hours after he normally would’ve risen. The extra sleep had been great, but he’d quietly panicked and hidden in the closet when he heard Ethari stirring, certain that the sound of the front door would alert his boyfriend to his presence even from inside the shower stall.

Runaan had spent half an hour in pitch blackness, contemplating his life choices and wishing desperately for some Tylenol, before Ethari’s text nearly startled him out of his skin. He was profoundly grateful for the force of habit that had made him put his phone on silent last night.

They’d texted lightly, lulling Runaan into a soft mood. And then he heard it, loud and clear from Ethari’s kitchen not twenty feet away: “I love you so much, you _stupid_ _idiot._ ”

Runaan dropped his phone from nerveless fingers as he tried to process Ethari’s unbidden words.

Denial arrived first, dragging shame and trauma as its entourage. _He can’t mean that. Not about me. Not really. I’m not worth that. Look what happened to me. He can’t love that. No one can._

Of all the things Runaan had overheard while lurking in the dark, of all the sins he’d committed without anyone knowing—including sitting on the floor beside Ethari last night, just to see him and know that he was safe—overhearing Ethari’s exasperated confession of love seemed the most intrusive and unforgivable.

_I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come._

But Aaravos _would_ have, if Runaan hadn’t. That was his unspoken threat. Runaan could feel the man’s hand on his shoulder, even now. Aaravos knew exactly where to direct Runaan’s attention and how to motivate him to take that next step, in a direction he was already inclined to go.

Runaan knew he wouldn’t have chosen differently. Not with Ethari’s safety on the line. But his heart was still troubled.

_This really is a shit plan. Who’s the idiot who thought this was okay?_

With a sigh, he stepped out of the closet and texted his rival. _You win this round._

Aaravos’s reply was prompt. _I do hope you had a lovely evening._

_You made your point. Back off._

_Or?_

“Pushy bastard.” Runaan’s lip curled. _Or you won’t get what you want during the exchange. You want me to execute my plan, then stay the fuck out of my way._

_As eloquent as always. You may return to your own bed tonight without worry. If you’re sure that’s what you want._

Runaan glanced down the hall toward Ethari’s bedroom. He’d barely been able to keep from curling up next to him last night. To hold him close and feel his slow, even breathing, an extra layer of reassurance that Ethari was safe and secure. He’d hovered in the door for ten minutes in an agony of indecision before tiptoeing forward and kneeling by Ethari’s bedside.

Runaan rolled his tongue against his front teeth in frustration, pocketed his phone, and let himself out. He stalked up the hill to his car and slammed the door extra hard as he got in.

His steering wheel was freezing. With a shiver, he pushed the starter button on the left and tapped the lower touch screen to adjust the heat to full blast. He popped open the center console and fished a bottle of pain meds out from under the gun he kept there, then he washed a couple of them down with a swig of cold coffee that tasted like someone had wet-vac’ed it off the floor of a dungeon.

He eyed the coffee, which had been hot when he left the warehouse last night. “And I thought _I_ was iffy on cooking. Ferg can’t make coffee to save his life.” He plunked the coffee back in the cup holder and sighed, slumping back into the dark green leather bucket seat.

As the car’s cabin began to warm up, his mind returned to that sharp sensation of intrusiveness he’d felt when he overheard Ethari. _Why does that bother me so much?_

He sighed again, this time in focus. _Status check._

_Hungry. Missed my morning workout. Coffee is for shit._

He frowned. He’d spent the night at his boyfriend’s place and all he could do was bitch about his stomach? _I can do better._

 _Slept okay. Comfy chair. Ethari’s safe. Aaravos is playing nice._ He ran one finger across the edges of the dark blue tape strips Ethari had braced his broken nose with. _Coulda hit me a lot harder than he did._

He studied that coffee cup again. Its bright white spill-proof lid gleamed in the low-angled sun. How many mornings had he drunk a coffee just like that one after seeing someone safely through the night? _Felt good watching over someone again. Someone I care about more than the paycheck._

A strange and heady mix of emotions burst into bloom in Runaan’s chest, and he grimaced and pressed a hand to his side. His reset rib was still a bit tender, but only from Aaravos’s knee. His range of motion was still restrictive, and his side was a road map of scar tissue. But not everything sucked as much as it had for the first month after his latest surgery.

The memory of letting Ethari trace a single finger across his scars slammed back into Runaan’s head, and he clapped his other hand over his abdomen as if he could divert that memory into a different course. But it was too late; he’d let Ethari touch his most damaged parts.

And the man hadn’t run.

And this morning, he’d said he _loved_ Runaan. Right out loud in his own apartment.

Perplexed, Runaan ran over the pair of memories a few times, trying to suss out their connection.

Unable to trust in any sort of soft conclusion after several minutes of struggle, Runaan sighed and strapped on his seat belt before flicking the car into gear and pulling onto the street. There was only one explanation for Ethari’s behavior, and Runaan would be a fool to consider anything else.

He just hadn’t seen Runaan’s scars for himself yet. If Runaan could just hold off from that moment somehow, until the job was over, then it would be okay when Ethari left him.

It would be okay when Ethari broke his heart. Because he’d deserve it.

_Because it’s a shit plan._

***

Ethari: _Hi, this is Ethari. Do you have some time to talk with me? I’m worried about Runaan, but I don’t want to bother him… Just looking for some guidance, and you know him really well. My work is closing at 3 today. Help a hopeless romantic out?_

Amaya: _Come to the house at 4. Our place is around to the right. Cute little cottage. Door will be open. Follow the thumps._

Ethari: _Thumps?_

Amaya: _I mean, I assume._ 😉

Ethari: 😂 😂 😂

Amaya: _And wear something you don’t mind getting beat up in._

***

Ethari felt strange parking on the same property a few days after his last visit. So much had happened since he’d sashayed up to Runaan’s door in his corset vest and jeans. And now he was parking somewhere else, visiting someone else. Runaan wasn’t even home. The whole situation felt surreal, and Ethari wasn’t sure he liked it.

He stepped out and locked his car before shoving his hands in his pockets and hurrying through the biting wind to the inviting little home at the edge of the hilltop property. It was bigger than a true cottage, but not by much. A swath of garden plots surrounded it, interspersed with decorative reflective balls and bright windspinners, and a large sunny deck dominated its southern exposure. Ethari grinned at the interactive space, feeling very welcome.

He let himself in the front door, as instructed. He paused and glanced into the neat, bright kitchen, decorated in jewel-toned primary colors. It was cozy and homey, but tiny. Runaan’s kitchen might have six times the space, but it lacked the _heart_ that Ethari felt radiating from this room.

 _Thump_.

His ears perked, and he headed down the hallway with the slow yet determined step of the newly invited. Past a small archway into a cozy parlor, past a couple of closed doors, he found a boxy staircase that wound downward.

_Thump, thump, thump._

He found a floor plan that hinted at a full basement beneath the cozy cottage, and though its lighting and bright color scheme was consistent with the upstairs, Ethari felt like he’d stepped into a secret lair. The décor on the lower level was distinctly more martial, with neat rows of bright and beautiful weapons displayed on the walls of the hallway that beckoned him onward. One wall held bladed swords of both Eastern and Western make, while its opposite held wooden weaponry both blunt and sharp, all lovingly decorated in a variety of world cultures.

 _Thump. Thump_.

He walked wonderingly down the hall toward the large room beneath the front of the house. Its door sat propped open with a twenty-pound weight. Ahead, the sounds of Janai and Amaya sparring made him hurry inside.

Janai’s training room was a well-lit rectangle with a wooden floor. The mirrored walls wrapped behind racks bearing pads and sparring weapons as well as various workout gear and a prominently placed First Aid kit. In the center of the room, on a square mat made of what looked like squishy blue paint, Janai seemed to be doing her best to knock her wife to the floor with a series of powerful spinning roundhouse kicks that slammed into the thick rectangular pad Amaya held. Each kick knocked Amaya back a step, but the shorter woman kept backing up in a broad circle, staying on the mat, absorbing kick after kick. 

They didn’t seem to notice Ethari, so he knocked on the open door with a heavy knuckle.

Janai was only a couple of inches shorter than he was, but she carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew what to do with every single muscle in their body. She turned toward him with a panther-like grace that made him feel like an awkward teen in the middle of a growth spurt. He waved as awkwardly as one, too.

“Ethari, there you are,” she greeted him.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me crash your workout.”

Janai translated casually for Amaya before asking him, “You asked about guidance for Runaan?”

“Uh, yeah. If it’s not too much trouble.” He shifted his feet.

Amaya dropped the kicking pad, grabbed a couple of water bottles from the edge of the mat, and tossed one to her wife. Janai caught it and took a second to hydrate before replying. “Ethari, you have no _idea_ how much Amaya and I have been looking forward to having a conversation like this about Runaan. But it’s going to cost you.”

Ethari looked to Amaya for clarity, but she just chuckled and tossed him the pad she’d been holding. He caught it against his chest and found that it wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected.

Amaya signed something, and Janai translated, “Ask anything you want. But Janai gets to kick the pad while we answer you.” She turned to Amaya with a grin. “You’re so mean,” she said as she signed teasingly. “Don’t chase him away!”

Amaya signed something with a sassy grin, and Janai laughed. “Don’t worry Ethari,” she told him, “I won’t break anything. But first, do you know anything about fighting? Martial arts, boxing, stuff like that?”

“Not really. I hit the gym in my apartment complex a couple times a week with my neighbor, but that’s it.”

“Okay then.” Janai came over and took the pad. “Coat and shoes off, and step onto the mat. I’ll show you how to stand.”

Ethari shed his heavy coat and worked off his shoes, standing in front of her in a retro _Farscape_ T-shirt and black sweat pants and socks. He followed her onto the thin blue pad in the middle of the room and found it firmer than it looked. “How to stand? Have I been doing it wrong all these years?” he asked teasingly.

Amaya held her hands up in an I-wash-my-hands-of-this-foolishness gesture and stepped back. Janai pressed the kicking pad back into his grasp, and he slid an arm through its padded struts, held on, and grabbed its upper handle with his other hand. “Like this?”

Janai guided him to a different spot on the mat and firmed his grip and arm placement, lowering the pad until he was holding it in front of his abdomen. “Lean in before the strike, then let it shift you backward to dissipate its energy. You think you’re standing pretty strong?” When Ethari nodded, she added, “Then let’s test it.”

“Oka—”

Janai dropped into a low stance, pivoted around, and launched a backward kick straight into the pad. Her heel drove deep. The pad smacked into Ethari’s abs. A blink later, he was airborne. Wide-eyed in shock, feet kicking, and hugging the kicking pad for dear life, Ethari flew across the mat. His agreement morphed into a shrill yelp. “—aaaaaaaaaay!”

He crashed down onto the blue mat at its extreme other corner halfway across the room. The soft surface absorbed his energy, leaving him dizzy but unhurt, gasping and spluttering. “H… _How_ …”

Amaya signed casually for several seconds. Her first set of signs made Janai nod wryly, but whatever she said after that made Janai’s eyebrows rise sharply. She gave her wife a chiding _tsk_ as she approached Ethari to offer a hand up. “You are a very good sport, Ethari. I like that about you.”

“Th-Thanks. What did she say?” Ethari said, still out of breath.

Janai cleared her throat. “Your balance will be much stronger once I show you how to stand. Come.”

Ethari followed her back to the far side of the mat. “That’s not what she said.”

“My bride will need to be more delicate in her commentary once you learn ASL,” Janai said wryly. “Now then,” she said as she commandeered Ethari’s hips and turned them sharply. “Face that way, this foot forward. Wide stance for stability.” She straightened his shoulders and nudged his back foot further to the side, then gave him a light push. “Bend your knees more. Good.” Another push on his shoulders. “Feel your legs bracing under you?”

“Yeah.”

Janai adjusted the pad’s placement a little more to the side. Ethari felt like he was hunkering behind a small padded shield. The martial arts instructor put her hands on the pad and leaned in with her body weight, and Ethari pressed back easily.

“Hey, that felt way better,” he said.

“Then ask your first question,” Janai replied. She backed up, eyeing the pad.

Ethari gulped. “I, okay, um.” He licked his lips, watching Janai’s feet for signs of an incoming kick. He’d had a mental list of questions prepared. He wasn’t sure he could remember them anymore, though. “I googled the uh, the _thing_ last night. The crash. But I couldn’t really read very far… Is he… Do you know what happened?”

Janai and Amaya exchanged a serious glance. Ethari was glad they didn’t have a secret conversation just then. Instead, Amaya simply lifted her chin.

“Yes,” Janai said. “Amaya will explain, and I’ll translate.”

Amaya moved behind her wife’s shoulder, and in the mirrored walls that ringed the room, Ethari guessed that her reflection was lined up right behind his shoulder, where she’d be in Janai’s line of sight while she practiced her kicks. Janai popped a light front kick against the pad, and then a harder one. Her jaw set tight, and Ethari’s stomach knotted. Somehow he’d been hoping that Runaan’s friends would ease his mind about the severity of the incident that hung over Runaan’s past like a dark cloud.

That didn’t seem likely now.

Amaya’s hands flickered, and Janai began to pop a series of quick kicks against Ethari’s pad. She stared just past his shoulder, reading her wife’s signs, and said, “We know. But Runaan is a very private person, and his secrets are his.”

Ethari braced against Janai’s kicks and nodded, gathering his courage. He met Amaya’s eyes and asked her, “Is he… dangerous?”

Amaya signed briefly. “To who?” Janai asked.

“To himself? To you? To me? He’s so locked down. After going through… whatever he went through… does he ever…” Ethari felt horrible even thinking such a thought, but he needed to know, “…lose it?”

Janai switched feet and drove a series of kicks into the pad while Amaya thought over her answer. Finally the masseuse started signing, and her wife said, “Runaan went through hell three years ago. He’s still dealing with some brimstone, but he’s much better than he was when we met him. He’s doing his very best. But he’s carrying some heavy shit, and sometimes heavy shit gets dropped when we don’t want to drop it. Runaan doesn’t want to hurt anyone, though. He isn’t bitter.”

Ethari closed his eyes and let Janai’s kicks slam into the pad, focusing on her words. His heart twisted. Runaan’s outer standoffishness made more sense now. He focused on Amaya again. “You both met him after the crash? How did you meet?”

Janai paused her kicks. Amaya’s grin was sharp as she and her wife shared another glance. Janai shrugged and grinned. “She loves this story. Brace yourself.”

Ethari brightened. “Wait, is this how you two—oh, _that_ kind of brace!” He snapped the pad into place just as Janai smashed a front roundhouse kick into it. “ _Ow_ …”

Amaya began her tale, and her hands wove the story in the air. “We were both hired to help Runaan when he moved here,” Janai translated as she threw out kick after kick. “I was Runaan’s occupational therapist. I started working with him the week he moved in. Janai arrived two months later, after he’d recovered from his first surgery. He was restless, bored, and finally healthy enough to begin working out a little bit. Janai and I bonded over our idiot charge, and next thing we knew, we’d fallen in love. It took us a couple of years to get over our gay panic, but eventually we realized we both wanted…”

Janai paused her translation and glanced back at Amaya, who was grinning from ear to ear, eager and soft. Ethari’s heart melted as they instinctively reached for each other’s hands.

“This,” Janai finished. “We both wanted _this_.”

Amaya flushed lightly and stood on tiptoe to give Janai a nice loud kiss.

Ethari lowered his protective pad. “Aww. You guys are so sweet.”

Janai smirked and aimed a big kick at him, and he jerked the pad back into place with a yelp. “You have been a very good sport, Ethari. I’ll stop pestering you now. Come upstairs for something to eat.”

Relieved, a little proud of himself, and bursting with even more questions, Ethari grabbed his coat and shoes and followed the ladies upstairs. They gathered around a tiny kitchen table that reminded Ethari of his own, and Amaya got out some cookies while Janai made hot cocoa.

“Ah, _ladies_. This is too much,” Ethari protested as Amaya offered him a bright yellow plate with three oatmeal raisin cookies on it.

She squinted at him suspiciously and added two more cookies. Ethari gave in with a chuckle and took a big bite of one of them. “This is the cutest house I’ve ever seen. Did one of you live here before you got together?”

They both shook their heads, and Janai said, “It stayed empty. Runaan wasn’t ready for company for a long time.”

Amaya signed eagerly, and her wife said, “When we told him we were in love, he offered the cottage to us. He didn’t even hesitate.” She smooched Amaya’s cheek and added, “We spent our weekends fixing it up. Amaya cut all the tile for the kitchen floor herself. My wife looks pretty hot in a bandanna, goggles, and a tank top.”

Amaya grinned and signed something short that made Janai choke.

Ethari laughed around a bite of cookie and said, “I can tell you guys really love it here. Runaan’s house feels so... _clinical_ , in comparison.”

Janai coughed and cleared her throat, and then she took a slow breath as if choosing her words carefully. “The house came that way, and I’ve never seen him show much interest in changing it.”

“Not much of an interior decorator?” Ethari guessed.

Amaya’s next signs were slow and sober. “When I first met him, Ethari,” Janai said quietly, “he wasn’t much of a person at all. Someday I hope to see him change something inside that house.”

 _That_ house. Not _his_ house.

Ethari asked his next question delicately, trying not to sound like he was a gold digger. “So, this big house, hiring you both… was that an insurance payout or something?”

The question made both women stiffen up and share a troubled glance.

“Oh, sorry, should I not have asked? It’s okay, I was only curious.”

Amaya started signing again. “When I got the email asking me to work here, I thought it was a prank,” Janai translated.

“Prank?” Ethari echoed.

“It was from Will Bonnenuit’s PA.”

Ethari frowned. “The actor? From the crash?”

The wives nodded. “He hired me too,” Janai added for herself.

Amaya signed again.

“Surgeries, therapists, cars, the house, his business, all of it. If it’s bolted down or has an engine, it’s from _him_.”

Between the way Amaya flicked her fingers and the tone Janai used to translate, Ethari picked up a troubling vibe. He looked from one of them to the other and nibbled the inside of his lip. “Gratitude flex?” he guessed.

Amaya nodded outright, but Janai took a breath. “That’s part of it,” she allowed.

Amaya elbowed her and picked up another cookie. Janai shot her a quick series of signs, and Amaya sighed loudly and broke her cookie. It crumbled into several soft, chunky fragments, and she gestured to it.

“I know,” Janai said as she signed. “It _is_ messy.”

Ethari fiddled with the handle of his cocoa mug and felt very small. Who was he to Runaan, when the man had had such a stellar celebrity in his life? He could never give Runaan even a fraction of the gifts Will Bonnenuit had so easily bestowed in thanks for saving his life.

Janai’s dark-skinned hand landed atop his own and squeezed. “On the upside,” she said firmly, "Amaya and I can tell everyone we meet that we fell in love because of Will Bonnenuit.”

Ethari managed a weak laugh. “That’s a great coincidence. Definitely worth mentioning.”

Amaya thumped her mug onto the table and began signing agitatedly. When Janai hesitated to translate, looking troubled, Amaya’s brows lowered. Her next signs clearly meant _He needs to know_.

“I need to know what?” Ethari asked in a low voice. “What’s going on?”

Amaya launched into her explanation, and Janai translated, watching her wife’s hands with tension in her eyes. “It wasn’t a coincidence. Will hired me because I’m a lesbian.”

Ethari’s eyes shot open. “What? Really? Why does that upset you?”

Amaya pointed to Janai, who said, “He hired me for the same reason.”

Baffled, Ethari felt his brows pull together. “Solidarity is good, but what aren’t you telling me?”

Janai cleared her throat. “Everyone who’s ever worked here has passed what Mr. Bonnenuit’s PA called ‘intense screening’.”

“What?”

Amaya gave her a grumpy look and began signing.

Janai cleared her throat again. “He didn’t want Runaan falling for any of his caregivers, or vice versa. So he made very sure that couldn’t happen. Runaan didn’t _just_ give us this cottage because he was happy we were together. This property was chosen because the cottage was already here. But if it was occupied, he could say No to drop-in visits more easily.”

Ethari’s confusion melted into an acidic puddle of _oh shit_. The famous actor’s possessive flex couldn’t have been more obvious. He dropped his cookie and fixed his eyes on Amaya, since the issue had clearly been bothering her more than it had Janai. “Are you trying to warn me off? Am I already in over my head? Are they still…” His throat closed, refusing to let the words out.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Janai blurted, while Amaya tapped her middle and index fingers against her thumbs frantically, signing along with her wife’s sentiment. “And they never were. It’s just that…” She trailed off and looked at Amaya for the right words.

Amaya’s dark brown eyes studied Janai, then Ethari. Her eyes dropped to his nerd shirt. Her hands moved, and her wife translated.

“Will Bonnenuit is a Weeping Angel.”

Ethari blinked. “What, like from _Doctor Who_?”

Amaya nodded solemnly. “Every time Runaan looks away,” Janai translated, “he gets dragged back to the same point in time.” She frowned, troubled.

Ethari stared at the table top, processing Amaya’s metaphor. “The only way to keep a Weeping Angel from attacking is by staring at it and not blinking. Are you telling me that Runaan’s been staring at this guy for three years straight?”

“Twice a month, at least,” Janai muttered.

“What?” His eyes found Amaya’s, even as his stomach sank. _I can’t fight a celebrity multimillionaire with enough spare change to fund every little detail of his former bodyguard’s new life. But I sure as hell_ want _to._ “Please. Just _tell_ me, is Runaan in trouble? Or if I try to help, will I just be getting in the way of something?”

Runaan’s friends shared a long, soft look. A complicated smile flickered across Janai’s lips. “I told you I liked him.”

Amaya bumped her shoulder against her wife’s, then she started signing to Ethari. “You _will_ get in the way,” Janai translated. “But that’s how you break the cycle.”

Ethari took a bite of cookie and glanced out the window at the main house. For the first time, he didn’t feel impressed or vaguely jealous of Runaan’s status or apparent success. That house wasn’t a mansion after all.

It was a gilded cage.

His gaze settled on Amaya again. “Tell me everything you feel comfortable sharing.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan's getting in over his head--in more than one way--but he still trusts Ethari more than he does himself. When he learns that Ethari has started asking his friends about him, he once again tries Ethari's tactic for himself. He gets a lot more action than he bargained for, but it leads him to take a step he'd been hesitant to take. Every time he hesitantly asks Ethari for something, his cheery boyfriend has been very willing to help Runaan out. And Runaan finally thinks he understands why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is over 11k, mostly because Opeli wanted to keep talking. She also informed me that she's aro. I knew she was keeping something to herself, but this was a great chapter for her to share it in. 
> 
> Please also enjoy all the boyfriend softness. They wanted to keep talking, too.

Janai’s voice floated out of the darkness as Runaan let himself into the house. “You didn’t come home last night. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

He shut the door and flipped on the foyer lights. “Lurking? That’s not usually your speed.”

Janai’s casual slouch against the foyer table snapped to alertness as her eyes spotted the tape on his swollen nose. She strode over in four steps and took his face in her hands, tipping it up to the light. “Looks like you didn’t enjoy yourself after all. What happened? Are you alright?”

Runaan took her wrists and gave them a light press of appreciation before lowering her hands. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Runaan, someone broke your nose!”

“Ethari patched me up.”

Janai’s eyebrows rose at that, and she commandeered Runaan’s chin. She turned his face to the left and right and studied his nose and its marked tape. “You do look cuter in these stripes. How’s the rest of you?”

Runaan automatically pressed a hand to his side and took a test breath. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said preemptively.

Janai folded her arms. “That makes me think it was pretty bad. Was it work?”

He gave her a mildly exasperated look. “I have time for little else right now, and no inclination to risk myself unnecessarily.”

“Well, Amaya’s waiting for you in the massage room. I’ll tell her to go easy on you since you had such a hard day today.” She turned and began leading him toward a side hall.

Runaan made a pained face and followed. “It happened yesterday, actually.”

Janai slowed to walk beside him, and her eyes dropped to the hand he still pressed against his side. “Yesterday? He didn’t say a word. He must’ve thought we already knew.”

“What? Who?”

“Ethari.”

Runaan’s heart surged. “You’ve spoken with him?”

Janai countered with her own question. “Where were you last night, if you weren’t with Ethari?”

Runaan looked aside. “I had something come up. Is Ethari alright?”

Janai took the length of the next hallway to answer. “Everything makes a little more sense now. You got hurt. He put you back together again. And then he came here, worried about you.”

They approached Amaya’s doorway, where the masseuse waited with her arms crossed.

“Why was he worried about me?” Runaan asked.

“Because you’re a dumbass,” Amaya signed quickly, and Janai snorted a laugh.

Runaan was less amused. “‘Dumbass’ seems extreme.”

“I’ve earned my insult privileges,” Amaya added. She took Runaan’s shoulders and guided him into the massage room, pulling his coat off his shoulders as he stepped ahead of her.

Runaan twitched lightly to protect his injured arm as the sleeve of his pea coat brushed over Ethari’s bandaging. Amaya was on him in a moment, feeling at the edges of the bandage beneath the fresh shirt Runaan had pulled on that morning in the warehouse. Her eyes stabbed up at his with worried accusation.

“What is it?” Janai asked from the doorway.

Runaan sighed and unbuttoned his shirt. They’d see it soon enough anyway. With only a slight wince, he eased the substitute blue shirt off and draped it over the back of a chair. The warm air in the room surrounded him like a blanket, but a ripple of goosebumps still danced across his skin. Janai and Amaya were the only two people he had grown comfortable enough around to take his shirt off for, but the act of making himself vulnerable would never be pleasant.

The women zeroed in on his arm. After a quick discussion, they dragged him to the massage table and settled him in place face-up, and Janai brought over a First Aid kit.

“Hold still and let Amaya do her work,” Janai said. “I will change the bandage.” She dragged over a chair and sat right at the edge of the massage table.

His friends got right to work, and Runaan felt himself relax under their fingers. Amaya set his left hand on her shoulder and started her usual pattern of muscle massage along his left side, beginning just above his hip and working her way up. Her fingers, though powerful, were patient and sensitive as she worked around his fresh new bruising. They skimmed right across lines and patches of scar tissue, focusing intently on the musculature beneath his skin. She glanced up regularly to gauge Runaan’s reaction to pressure on new areas, and he let her see his discomfort when she pushed on sensitive spots near his prosthetic rib. He trusted her not to hurt him, and she’d earned and affirmed that trust over three years’ worth of surgeries and recoveries.

Amaya was always so focused on doing her job, on helping him get better, that he hadn’t once caught her looking at his scars. To her, they might as well not exist. Runaan felt his eyes prick with heat at the thought.

Janai ripped off the tape that held the bandage over the wound on his arm. “Ow,” he blurted, shooting her a grumpy look.

“Ethari did a very good job,” the martial arts instructor commented lightly. Her fingers pressed carefully around the edges of Runaan’s cut. “He has some training, it seems. That alone makes him a keeper, considering.”

Amaya snorted and shifted her hands higher along Runaan’s side while he kept his hand on her shoulder. As she stepped closer to his head and worked over his side, her proximity stretched his arm higher bit by bit, pulling taut against the latest surgical improvements he’d endured.

“You _are_ going to keep him, aren’t you?” Janai pressed. She pulled a fresh bandage and ointment from her kit.

Runaan realized he had been expected to reply and hadn’t. As Janai’s hands skillfully applied the new bandage to his arm, he stared up at the big poster Amaya had tacked onto the ceiling for him to stare at during sessions—an ancient mossy forest, complete with filtering moonbeams and a mysterious elven figure on a massive white deer with magnificent horns. “If it’s what he wants,” he said faintly.

“What about what you want?” Janai asked softly.

“I don’t—” Runaan bit off his words, and his fingers twitched hard against Amaya’s shoulder.

She looked down at him with serious brown eyes and concerned brows. “Say it,” she signed.

His jaw tightened, and his breathing shallowed. He didn’t quite look at either of them, but he could feel the weight of their gazes on him. After a moment, he let out his tension and sighed. “I don’t _know_ what I want,” he admitted.

Four hands stilled against his skin, and he mentally braced for twin demands to explain.

“Then what the fuck was all that on your couch during date night?” Amaya signed, broadly and impatiently.

Runaan’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away.

“Let’s not pester him while he’s getting treated, _cherie_ ,” Janai said. “He comes in here to be safe.”

Runaan looked back up, and Amaya stared at him for a tense second. Then her shoulders slumped, and she slipped a hand behind Runaan’s neck, encouraging him to sit up. He flexed his abs with a muffled grunt as he did so, and his ponytail puddled behind him on the massage table, hanging warm and heavy against his bare back. As he spread his knees and dangled his legs off the table’s padded sides, Amaya pulled a small smoothie from the little fridge across the room and handed it to him. He took a sip through its bright yellow straw. Blueberry. She only ever stocked his favorites.

“I’m sorry,” she signed. “You two seemed to hit it off so well. The job you’re doing must be hard on you both.”

He set the smoothie in front of him and signed back. “That too.”

“Runaan? What’s going on?” Janai reached back for his shirt and wordlessly handed it to him. He took it by reflex— And then he froze. Just another one of a million identical moments where he instinctively felt he needed to cover his flaws—his scars, his _damage_ —as quickly as possible. What if it took years for him to feel ready to share this with Ethari? What if that moment _never_ came?

That thought pierced his chest like a laser. He dropped the shirt atop his thigh and stared right through his smoothie. His left hand pressed against his side, and time seemed to spaghettify. Once upon a time, he’d never needed that safeguarding gesture, but it had become second nature now. His body was permanently damaged, and he’d never be the same again. Pressing a hand to his scars was like… Runaan couldn’t quite look directly at the bright and rippling reasons why he kept using the reflexive gesture. If he did, he knew they’d hurt, in a deeper way than he’d ever admit they had.

The deepest damage nearly fit beneath his hand. He could hide it, but he could never fix it. Not all of it. Not now. His other hand fisted in the soft fabric of his shirt, and he raised his eyes to Amaya, feeling them fill up. His brows lifted, and he let his head tilt and his shoulders slump. He swallowed hard, and a tear escaped his right eye and tumbled over the ridge of his cheekbone.

The hot track of his tear immediately cooled, and the chill against his cheek made him drop his chin and squeeze his eyes shut, letting more tears out.

Runaan wept silently, shaking with the force of his sobs, feeling alone in the dark behind his eyelids, as he had on so very many nights. But then two pairs of warm, strong arms encircled him with gentle care, holding him softly, reminding him that he was _not_ alone. His friends, whom he trusted with his most shameful secret, steadfastly refused to leave him alone in his distress.

He had no idea why they’d stayed so long. He didn’t pay them nearly enough to put up with all his bullshit. But there they were. Right there in arm’s reach.

It was too much. A sob burst aloud from Runaan’s lips, and he leaned forward, keening. Pressure built swiftly inside his broken nose, but he couldn’t stop it, or himself. Janai caught the front of his shoulders and supported him, and Amaya smoothed a hand down around his ponytail over and over, knowing how he liked the feel of it falling softly against his back.

“We have you, Runaan.” Janai’s low voice murmured near his ear. “We’re here.”

Runaan clung to her arm, shoulders heaving. The pain in his nose was quickly overwhelming his grief, though. Finally, he muttered, “Ah, god, my nose,” and tipped his face up, pressing gingerly against the blue tape. Amaya handed him a kleenex, and he pressed it under his nose and blew in light little puffs, trying to clear it. The spots of red on the kleenex told him he’d cried open some torn tissue again, though. “Dammit.”

Janai held up his smoothie, and he took a sip, which calmed his breathing and cooled his mouth and throat. He nodded his thanks, and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm back down. She smiled down at him in her fond, big-sister way and signed to Amaya. “He must have it bad. The big L.”

Amaya rubbed the back of Runaan’s shoulder encouragingly before signing, “When you’re ready to talk, I think Ethari will be too.” She tipped her head ever so slightly toward his scars without letting her gaze leave his.

The thought shook Runaan deeply, and he grasped his smoothie in both hands, taking several long sips through the straw. His friends slipped their arms across the back of his shoulders and leaned against him. He lowered his half-empty cup, feeling like he stood on the edge of a precipice, and murmured, “But… how can you know that for _sure_?”

Janai and Amaya high-fived in front of him and folded their fingers together. With a sassy wink, Janai said, “We’re your winglesbians, Runaan. We’re never wrong.”

***

Friday morning, Ethari woke early. The sky was only faintly light. He bit his lip with a grin and reached for his phone. _I know we just said good night a few hours ago,_ he texted _, but I miss you already._

Runaan’s reply was prompt. _Sorry I couldn’t talk longer. Rough day._

Ethari rolled onto his side and propped the side of his phone in one palm. _Sleep okay?_

_No. My favorite pillow is losing its delicious smell._

_A tragedy! I should do something about that,_ Ethari texted, grinning broadly.

_Please don’t try to infiltrate my house. It may shoot you._

_The house?_

_Don’t worry. It has a concealed carry permit._

Ethari sent him a string of rofl emojis. _Let me see your nose today. Is it better?_

In a moment, a picture came in, showing Runaan raising a doubtful eyebrow above the blue tape Ethari had given him. His hair was neatly brushed, and his frames looked as classy as ever, but he looked tired and nose was still a little puffy. Other than that and the healing red mark across its bridge, it looked a lot better than it had right after the attack. Behind him, the big warehouse space stretched out into uncertain gloom.

_At work already? It’s barely 6._

_No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid._

_Omg_ , Ethari texted while cackling, _that’s why I woke up early. I must want to be naughty_.

Another pic loaded: a chalk-sketched floor schematic, showing a balcony over a big round swimming pool. _Keep talking like that and I’ll toss you in._

Ethari’s body reacted to that suggestion with extreme interest for six AM. _I can think of much better places to toss me_ , he texted back.

Runaan’s response was a single pleading emoji.

Ethari wriggled happily under his blankets. He’d come a ways from warning his boyfriend about snacking at work.

 _Let me finish this coffee and I’ll be right with you_ , came Runaan’s next message.

Ethari sucked in a breath, wide-eyed and wondering what that meant, exactly. _Okay?_ he replied uncertainly. He gnawed on his lip and pulled his blankets up higher over his chest, staring at his phone with curiosity.

After a couple of minutes, he got a video call. He accepted and saw Runaan’s left arm in a dim room as he pushed a door shut and locked it. Runaan moved around and sat down on something in the dark. For a moment, his face was sharp and intense. Then his face softened into a smile. He pulled off his glasses and set them aside. “Hi.”

Ethari let out a soft and baffled chuckle. “Where are you?”

“Back room. We use it for crashing.” Runaan turned and lay down on his side on a narrow cot. His head came to rest on an old brown couch cushion that had seen better decades, but he only had eyes for Ethari, and his smile was irrepressibly soft.

Ethari turned to mirror his position and propped his phone up as if Runaan were snuggled right next to him. “You can crash next to me anytime, hon.”

To his surprise, Runaan blinked uneasily and looked away for a moment before glancing back up. “Thanks. I… I appreciate that.”

“Is there somewhere you wanted to toss me?” Ethari teased. “I’m taller than you, but if you ask nicely, I think I’d let you.”

Runaan let out a soft puff of laughter and looked down. His cheeks darkened in the dim light from his screen. “Um… about that…”

Belatedly, Ethari realized that Runaan wasn’t trying to flirt at all. Something was weighing on his mind. “Oh gosh, Runaan, my bad. What’s on your mind?”

Runaan’s pale brows drew together, and he looked down as if searching for answers. “I… Can I try… Will you… _God_.” He took a deep breath and blew it out with his eyes shut. Then he licked his lips and spoke again, keeping his eyes closed. “I want to practice trusting you more. But I don’t… I don’t know how to start.”

Ethari’s heart swelled softly, and he smiled gently at his distressed boyfriend. “Okay. How long do you have?”

Runaan opened his eyes again, and a serious look framed their blazing turquoise. “Maybe ten minutes.”

“I can work with that. How about you give me a topic, and I’ll ask you questions about it? Then you can tell me as much as you want, or as little.”

Runaan’s brows flicked in mild surprise. “There you go again, making everything easy.”

“Not _everything_. But this, I think I can try. Pick something.”

“Like what?”

Ethari snuggled against his pillow. “No, no prompting. Is there something you want to talk with me about?”

Runaan cleared his throat. “Um. Tossing?”

“In pools? Or did you mean bedroom stuff?”

“Uh, not… not exactly? Yes, but no… _God_ , okay. Um.” Runaan blew out a nervous breath. “I’m not sure anymore what my preferences are… I’ve kind of been all over the map with you, and I…” He trailed off into a soft, exasperated growl.

“Oh, okay,” Ethari interjected gently. “Can I try a question?”

Runaan squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed. “Please.”

Ethari nibbled at the inside of his lip and took a deep breath, thinking things through for a bit. “Did you used to know what you wanted?”

Runaan’s eyes wandered to the right and quickly darted back to Ethari’s. “Yeah. Long time ago.”

“Okay. Do you mind telling me what you used to like?” Ethari kept his voice as soothing as he could.

The question seemed to upset Runaan a little. He looked down, and his mouth couldn’t hold still as he nibbled at his bottom lip. “I… liked to be in charge, I guess. I was comfortable there. Good with boundaries.” A brief smile crossed his lips. “And I still like to know the whole plan, so.”

Ethari hummed in relief at Runaan’s smile. “That’s very you, alright. But… things changed? You don’t want to lead anymore?”

To Ethari’s surprise, Runaan’s jaw bunched hard and his face tensed, holding back some strong reaction he didn’t want Ethari to see.

“Okay, okay,” Ethari said quickly, “let me ask a different question. I’m gonna throw this one out, it doesn’t count. Here, c’mere, closer. Lean your forehead against mine and close your eyes, okay?”

Runaan blinked at him in surprise, but he wordlessly brought his phone right up against his forehead. Ethari waited just long enough to make sure that Runaan’s lashes fluttered shut at the bottom of the screen before he did the same.

“Okay,” he murmured softly. “Still with me?”

“Yeah,” Runaan whispered, as if he were right there before him.

Ethari reached out a hand on instinct and ended up squeezing a fist full of blanket, wishing urgently that Runaan were there so he could hold and soothe him through this. “Here we are, just you and me. No one else ever has to know anything you say to me. It’s just us, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You say it too.”

“It’s just us,” Runaan repeated softly.

“Hey, there we go.” Ethari swallowed hard and tried not to think about Runaan’s hijacking or Will Bonnenuit. Runaan was the only part of that tangle he cared about. The Runaan that was lying on a spare cot on a break from his job, not the Runaan who used to know what he wanted or the one who’d forgotten how it felt to enjoy being in charge. “So, we’re here in the dark, where it’s just you and me, and you want to trust me.”

Runaan heaved a slow breath and released it. “Yeah. That’d be…”

Ethari glanced at his screen, where Runaan was still and calm. “Can I… Will you let me talk you through a couple of things?”

Runaan cracked one eye open. “Like what?”

“No no, no peeking.”

Runaan laughed softly. “You peeked first.”

Ethari chuckled with him and shut his eyes again. “Okay, for real, I won’t look. Just listen to my voice.”

“ _Hnnn_. I do like your voice.”

Ethari felt his cheeks warm above his smile. “How about we start with your lips. I really like your lips, but I can’t be there to appreciate them, so you can do it for me. How about that?”

“Um, okay.”

“Great. Run your tongue around them and get them wet for me.”

Runaan’s sharp inhalation of interest made Ethari grin. “Okay, done,” Runaan murmured.

Ethari smiled at the memory of kissing Runaan, letting it warm him inside and out. “Mmm, I bet they’re very soft and silky now. Will you check them for me?”

“With what?”

 _He’s already comfortable handing me options, wow._ “Hmm, well… Lick the tip of your finger. Get it nice and slick. Then slide it across your bottom lip nice and slow. Push into it a little, feel that plumpness for me. How is it?”

Runaan’s reply was a little breathy. “It’s… yeah. Soft. Warm.”

Ethari tsked through a smile. “You don’t seem to be appreciating your lips the way I do. Let’s try again, because lips are very important. Lick your finger again—suck it until it’s wet.”

Runaan made a small noise of pleased compliance that shot a pleasant buzz deep inside Ethari’s abdomen.

He continued, “Now run it along your bottom lip again, but this time, slower. And messier. Drag your finger like you’ve got cake frosting on your lips. And I’m there to swipe it off for you. With my tongue.”

Runaan’s breathless curse was accompanied by a delightful choking sound that sent Ethari giggling. He popped open his eyes to see Runaan glaring heatedly at him and blurting through gleaming lips, “Goddammit, Ethari, if you were here right now, I’d pay your lips back for that so _hard_.”

Ethari hummed with wicked delight. “Runaan, I _am_ here. You want to pay me back? Bring it on.”

“I…”

Ethari could practically feel the tangled knot of emotions behind Runaan’s hesitant answer. “It’s okay. I’m cool with practically anything. You just have to say. And we can stop messing around like this whenever you need to go back to work,” he added, giving Runaan an easy out.

Runaan held his gaze tensely for several long seconds before asking quietly, “Is it okay if I look while you do it?”

Ethari felt a crooked grin spread across his face. “Didn’t figure you for the voyeur type, but sure.”

“It’s not that. I’d rather feel you moving, but since you’re not actually here…”

Ethari’s expression cleared. “Ah, no, that makes sense. Okay, I’m ready. Just tell me what you want to see.”

Runaan’s uncertain expression smoothed into something more businesslike. “Roll onto your back for me.”

Ethari’s eyes widened, and he eagerly complied, holding his phone to match Runaan as his boyfriend shifted into a sitting position as if straddling his waist. Runaan leaned down, eyes on Ethari’s mouth, and kept leaning until their lips met on their screens. Ethari sucked in a breath at the unexpected virtual kiss, and for a moment he saw double, feeling Runaan’s long white hair cascading around them, his boyfriend’s warm lips, the firm touch of his hands, the weight of his hips. A groan of longing escaped his mouth, and he bucked slowly under his covers.

“God, you’re a feast,” Runaan murmured. “I want to nibble every inch of you.”

Another whimper of desire writhed out of his throat. Ethari’s feet slid helplessly against his mattress, desperate for traction. “ _Runaan_ …”

His boyfriend’s voice was soft and urgent. “Open your mouth for me. Use your thumb against your bottom lip.”

Ethari hummed breathily deep in his throat. He crooked a finger under his own chin and pulled his mouth open with his thumb, pressing into his lip and spreading it as he did so. His eyes clung to Runaan’s, and he was gratified to see the white-haired man’s pupils darken abruptly when he flicked his tongue invitingly.

“Holy shit,” Runaan breathed. “No wonder you’re up early. There really is no rest for the wicked.”

Ethari let out a throaty chuckle and raised one eyebrow invitingly.

Runaan loomed closer on the screen. “You want to tease me, huh? You want me thinking about you all day?”

“Nnhnn,” Ethari purred in the back of his throat.

“Then slide your thumb into your mouth and get it wet.”

Ethari dipped his thumb in against his tongue and hummed happily around it, licking softly around its pad, letting its tip peek through his lips for Runaan to see.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Runaan breathed, eyes pinned on Ethari’s mouth and those pink flickers of his tongue. “You’re far too good at this.”

Ethari smirked around his thumb and flicked his eyebrows. Then he sobered, remembering that he was only trying to encourage Runaan, not overpower him. He pulled his thumb free and said, “You make me _want_ to be good. Or naughty, if you’re into that.”

Runaan’s urgent focus on Ethari softened into a smile. “Yeah?”

Ethari swore he could hear faint echoes of Runaan’s trust issues behind that single word. Whatever Runaan was clinging to, he desperately wanted to put it down. He just needed a little reassurance. Ethari knew that feeling, at least a little. He let out a breath and held Runaan’s gaze. “Yeah. I only want to do things _with_ you, Runaan, or _for_ you. Never _to_ you. Not my speed.”

“Okay.” Runaan inhaled as if he needed to hang up, but then he paused and added, “I need to get back soon, but… there’s one thing I can think of that’ll keep me thinking of you all day long.”

Ethari’s heart tingled with the extra burst of trust that Runaan had chosen to share with him. “Mm? What’s that?” he murmured.

Runaan licked his lips and hovered, open-mouthed, over Ethari. “Open up again.”

Ethari eased his thumb back over his bottom lip and pulled his mouth open with a saucy grin.

“Run your thumb over your lips. Nice and glossy. I want to see them shining.”

Ethari looked down toward his mouth as if he could see his own lips. He slicked the pad of his thumb in a slow, deliberate circle, pressing into his lips as he went, until he’d wetted them all the way around. “Nnng?” he inquired from the back of his throat.

“Mmm. Very pretty. I could spend an hour just kissing those pretty wet lips of yours, until they’re throbbing and swollen, and every tiny flick of my tongue, every little nibble, makes you tremble and moan.”

“ _Nnnhh_!” Ethari’s eyes widened at the sudden image of Runaan crouched above him, fervently devoted to making out with him for an hour straight. His feet slid against his mattress again, and he writhed lightly in delight.

“Mmhmm, just like that.” Runaan blinked down at him and brushed a finger across his screen as if caressing Ethari’s chin. “I’d love to hear you make some sounds for me… around your thumb. Will you do that for me?”

Ethari glanced down at his thumb and started slipping it in along his tongue. He held eye contact with Runaan as it fit deeper into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he made a suction around it, and his tongue worked against his skin, keeping it slick. He lifted his chin and worked the base of his thumb in too, opening wider to accommodate it, until he felt his thumb tip nestle in the back of his throat. He coughed lightly and resettled it against the back curl of his tongue, then he cleared his throat, finding his voice.

Runaan leaned very close, entranced. “Is it comfortable?”

“ _Mmfff_ ,” Ethari agreed. His voice vibrated through his hand.

A grating breath slipped through Runaan’s teeth, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose your mother taught you not to talk with your mouth full,” he said lightly.

Ethari choked and wheezed, laughing hard around his thumb. He coughed lightly again and subsided into whimpering chuckles.

“And I hope you chew before you swallow,” Runaan added. “Swallowing chicken nuggets whole is just for suggestive anime.”

Ethari’s back arched as he wheezed with laughter. The sound morphed into a needy whine that pleaded with his boyfriend to stop with the awful puns.

Runaan bit his lip and grinned, savoring the sweet, muffled noises Ethari was making for him. “Alright, I’m almost done torturing you. You’ve been very willing, and I appreciate that more than you know. Just one last thing, though, I promise.”

Ethari hummed inquiringly, even as his chest heaved with laughter.

Runaan sighed appreciatively for Ethari’s delightful noises. “You told me once that you imagined us against that mirror in your shop.”

“Mmhmm?” Ethari asked, not quite sure where Runaan was taking things.

“Look me in the eye, Ethari, and imagine anything you want right now.”

Ethari’s vision fluttered wildly as several images overlapped each other at once. Runaan sitting right where he was, tugging Ethari over on top of him, making out for an hour straight, pressing him against his sheets and thumbing his mouth open…

The eager noises that sprang from Ethari’s throat were so enthusiastic that Runaan fumbled his phone with a heartfelt curse and vanished from sight on the screen. He veered back into view as he snatched it back up again, and his blush was in full force. “I… I deserved that…” he said faintly.

Ethari pulled his thumb free with a wet pop and laughed delightedly. “Ah, god, your face… I can feel its heat from here! Sounds like I’ve made your morning unforgettable. Glad I could help you out with that.”

Runaan blinked a few times, still blushing hard, and Ethari could see his shoulders heaving breathlessly. But a smile played around his boyfriend’s lips. “You did. More than you know. I’ll definitely be thinking of you all day today.”

Ethari could tell by the thoughtful tone of Runaan’s voice that he was thinking of more than just his boyfriend’s mouth. Something lurked just behind Runaan’s eyes, and he wasn’t quite ready to share all of it, but Ethari felt that he’d helped him take another step. “Hey. I’m here anytime you need it,” he offered gently, speaking toward that unseen tangle in Runaan’s mind.

Runaan seemed to sense Ethari’s direction, but his smile flickered and he glanced away. “I need to get back to it.” He paused, then added. “I hope you have a good day. You’re always wishing me one. Thought I might say it first this time.”

Ethari’s heart melted. He sat up and scrubbed one hand through his messy hair. “Awww, Runaan. You’re doing amazing, look at you. I’m so proud of you. You have a good day too, hon.”

Runaan’s turquoise gaze fluttered back in surprise as he registered Ethari’s kindness. “I… Thank you. I think it’s safe to say I will.” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his screen.

Touched by Runaan’s gesture, and by his show of trust by making it first, Ethari smiled and softly mirrored him.

***

Opeli waved goodbye and left the last room at the end of the strip mall. Her gear was stashed in an oversized, reusable farmer’s market bag that she slung over her shoulder, and her stiff new martial arts gi blazed off-white in the yellowish lights that dotted the parking lot, but her smile was a mile wide. Her footsteps echoed off the building’s flat front as she headed to her car, tossing her hair back like a woman half her age.

 _Heeled boots? She really should’ve worn running_ _shoes_ , Runaan thought from beneath the hoodie he’d pulled up to obscure his bright hair. He was about to hop down from his perch in the fir tree near her car when three male voices caught his attention. He spotted their owners quickly: three twenty-somethings sauntering over from the Jack-in-the-Box in the next lot. Seemingly harmless, but they’d altered their trajectory to walk behind Opeli instead of in front of her. Runaan’s legs tensed beneath him.

“Evening, miss,” the gangly one in plaid called, slowing. “Doing some late night shop—”

“‘Miss’? What’s wrong with being single?” Opeli blurted defensively.

Runaan nearly choked on the laugh that slammed against his teeth. He gripped a branch for stability while the urge to laugh aloud passed.

“Uh, nothing, just, uh… Farmer’s market, huh?” the young man pressed. His friends kept walking as if uninterested, but Runaan saw them turn and check Opeli out from behind—and not in the respectful sort of way. The heavyset one paused a dozen feet behind her, and the guy with the black hoodie began to circle around to the far side of her car, not twenty feet from Runaan.

“N-No,” Opeli blustered bravely. “Jujitsu.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Plaid Shirt said in a mock impressed tone. “You let the gay French lady pin you to the mat, huh? Kinky.”

Opeli’s tone turned chill. “My sensei is married, dumbass. Do you even know how martial arts work?”

He snickered dismissively. “Oh no, you gonna beat me up for bothering you after dark?” He and his friends began to laugh, and Opeli cringed, hearing that she was surrounded.

Runaan was out of his tree and across the asphalt before she could answer. He jerked Hoodie’s hoodie over his head and smacked his skull against Opeli’s car frame, letting him drop to the pavement unlamented. Then he slid the soft seat of his worn black jeans across Opeli’s hood and landed on his feet at her side, keeping both of her would-be assailants in sight. One hand tugged down his own dark hood and exposed his white hair to the streetlights while the other reached toward her reassuringly. “No, but I will.”

Opeli yelped at his sudden appearance and took a half step away before she recognized him. “Mr. Deimos? What are you doing here?”

“Good evening, Opeli. I just had a couple of questions for you, if you have some time when we’re through here?”

Her eyes darted to the edges of his frames. “A-About your glasses?”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Heavyset began, stepping forward. Runaan spun behind Opeli to face him. The man outweighed Runaan by at least fifty pounds, and the former bodyguard was not looking forward to explaining to Ethari how he got a fresh new crop of bruises—

A black-sleeved arm snaked across Heavyset’s throat, and the man vanished backward, ending in a crumpled heap on his stomach. Runaan blinked, belatedly realizing that a figure dressed in black had toppled him in a variant martial arts drop.

He pressed Opeli against her car with one hand as he pivoted past toward Plaid Shirt. “Stay,” he murmured to her. As he blocked the chatty assailant’s first two punches, he heard Heavyset swearing behind him and scuffling. He danced around Plaid Shirt, parrying and drawing his focus away from Opeli, until he saw a quick opening. Another parry and a swift jab to the short ribs let him take the man by the collar and slam his head against Opeli’s trunk.

An answering slam from the front end of the car made him look up sharply. Heavyset was sliding bonelessly to the ground in time with Runaan’s prey, and the black-clad figure that had bested him grinned broadly in the chilly night air.

Aaravos.

Runaan’s jaw bunched, and he stalked forward, putting himself one step closer to Viren’s man than Opeli was. He rested a hand against her driver’s side door, shielding her. “What the hell do you want?” he growled.

Aaravos’s smile was beatific. “Merely offering a helping hand. I felt I owed you, after…” the taller man gestured gracefully to Runaan’s taped nose.

“Bullshit. You’re following me.”

“That is what my employer has instructed me to do.” Aaravos shrugged and smiled. “He never said I couldn’t help you at the same time.”

Runaan’s eyes flashed. “Opeli is off limits. She’s part of Ethari’s world. Piss off.”

Aaravos pressed a palm against his chest as if wounded. “Runaan, you’re the one who was lurking in the tree and waiting for her to leave her dojo, not me. _You_ led _me_ here. And when you go, then I will follow. Until such time, I’m afraid you’re simply stuck with—”

A battlecry howled out of the night, and a pair of slender wooden sticks smacked Aaravos on his head and shoulder, staggering him as his attacker whirled into view. Runaan tensed into a protective stance, and Opeli yelped behind him. The three foolhardy men who’d thought Opeli easy prey scrambled to their feet and scattered with muttered curses, wanting nothing to do with whatever next-level combat was about to happen.

“What an unexpected delight—” Aaravos began, but he had to break off as Janai spun again, swinging her escrima sticks like glossy brown blurs and yelling at the top of her lungs. He caught the blows against his forearms, managing to deflect them somewhat. Janai caught him in the midriff with a powerful kick that drove him backward, and she swiftly leaped after him.

Aaravos skidded to a halt and sank into a battle stance, grinning broadly. “And what a lovely night it is for sudden combat.”

Janai whipped her weapons around her and flung herself at him, and he parried and dodged, backing away with every swing.

“Help her,” Opeli urged Runaan, grasping a handful of his left sleeve.

Runaan kept his eyes on the fight and smiled at his friend’s prowess. Janai really didn’t need any help from a broken ex-bodyguard like him. But he’d enjoy taking a swipe at Aaravos anyway. “Get in your car and lock the door. Leave if you want to. But I’d still like to talk with you later.”

Opeli tsked. “You can come by the shop Monday morning—”

Faintly exasperated, Runaan added, “About _Ethari_.”

“Oh!” Opeli scrambled for her door handle. Runaan heard her door lock behind her as he stalked toward Aaravos and Janai. Einhorn’s enforcer had managed to snatch one of her escrima and they were clattering at each other at a dizzying speed in the middle of the empty parking lot.

Runaan jogged up behind Aaravos, dropped, and spun, cutting his legs out from beneath him. The taller man slammed onto his back and rolled backward to his feet again, losing his black beanie. His aurora-hued curls sprang out and bounced chaotically down his back.

“Woah,” Janai breathed, staring. “How did you fit all that hair in there?”

Runaan, having seen the hair trick before, didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward and popped a series of quick kicks at Aaravos’s sides, forcing him to swing Janai’s stolen escrima this way and that to block them all. “I’d be happy to explain, if you’d stop flailing at me like a couple of overeager puppies,” Aaravos puffed.

“You broke my friend’s nose and you scared my newest student,” Janai said as she skidded in to block with her own stick. Runaan shifted around to Aaravos’s right as she added, “I think I want to beat you up a little more first.”

Opeli’s engine roared, and Runaan saw her headlights slash across Aaravos and Janai as she headed out. He shoved away his frustration and lunged at Aaravos, tackling him into range of Janai’s escrima stick. She wrapped his arm into a lock and grabbed a fistful of his dazzling curls, bending him forward. He growled, and Runaan saw his weight shift for a kick.

“Oh my _god_ , that _hair_!” Opeli’s voice was nearly as loud as her brakes’ squeal as she jerked her car to a sudden stop, smacking into Aaravos with her front bumper.

The force of her car shoved him back and slammed his face onto her hood with the unmistakable crunch of displaced cartilage. Janai and Runaan both leaned around Aaravos’s moaning form to stare, wide-eyed, at the distracted driver who’d come within inches of mowing them all down.

Opeli rolled down her window some more and leaned out sheepishly. “E-Everyone okay?” she asked faintly.

“I think I broke my nose,” Aaravos mumbled wetly.

Even though it hurt, Runaan couldn’t help the ripping snort of laughter that burst out of him.

***

On Runaan’s reluctant word that Aaravos wouldn’t cause a single shred of trouble—to which Aaravos blinked extra innocently while holding Opeli’s pink scrunchie against his bleeding nose—Janai opened her dojo back up for everyone. While Runaan made Opeli some chamomile tea, Janai reluctantly patched Aaravos’s nose for him. She gave him a death glare the whole time, and he did a masterful job of pretending that it was a smile.

“Thank you for your services,” he murmured when she was done. “May I have a word with your white-haired friend?”

Runaan had been sitting on a stack of mats and keeping Opeli company—his presence, somehow, seemed to calm her down. Maybe it was because he’d told her that she’d done everything right during the fight—by staying out of reach and out of trouble, for the most part. At Aaravos’s question, he looked over and raised a wry eyebrow above his dark blue frames. It did him good to see Aaravos’s nose bandaged even more aggressively than his own. Under long strips of the star-spangled athletic tape Amaya had given Janai at Christmas, Aaravos’s cheeks and broken nose were looking decidedly glittery.

Janai told Aaravos, “You don’t get to talk to him alone. I’m already this close to calling the cops on you for stalking.”

Aaravos gracefully took that as permission to speak anyway. He dipped his head with a smile. To Runaan, he simply said, “I’m not who you think I am.”

Runaan squinted. If Aaravos wanted to have a secret conversation in front of others, he’d play along. Intel was intel. “I’m pretty sure you’re exactly who I think you are.”

Aaravos, smug bastard that he was, _laughed_. “Ah, such _confidence_. No wonder everyone in your life trusts you.”

Runaan offered a brief glower, ignoring the backhanded compliment. “Something you want to brag about?”

The enforcer’s smile was wicked. “This isn’t Hansel and Gretel, Runaan. I don’t deal in bread crumbs. But then, you’re more of a croutons man, aren’t you? ‘Gritty’ is far too smooth a term for someone who’s had as rough a ride as you.”

Runaan rolled his eyes tiredly at Aaravos’s apparent double entendre, but beside him, Opeli clearly took offense on his behalf. She whipped a little can of pepper spray from her oversized farmer’s market bag and lifted it threateningly toward Aaravos, but Runaan silently clasped her wrist and lowered it without looking over. Opeli subsided with a grumpy sigh, looking thwarted and muttering about not minding a second face dent in her car hood.

Janai stepped between them and Aaravos, arms folded, wearing a jaded look. “That’s it. You’re out.”

Aaravos rose with a charming smile and headed for the door. “Just make sure you select the correct fork for that salad, Runaan. We can’t have the croutons winning, now, can we?”

Icy white memory shot down Runaan’s spine—whiskey, salad, laughter, hands—and he missed something Janai said due to the heavy pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. He wrestled the sudden imagery back into the darkness and took a few quick breaths to steady himself.

When he could hear again, he heard his friend say, “I’d invite you back anytime you like for a rematch, but we both know karma has spoken. Don’t let me see that hair of yours ever again.”

The enforcer sketched a smooth bow, holding eye contact with Runaan the whole time. Runaan’s lip curled. Somehow, impossibly, Aaravos knew _exactly_ what he’d done. The man pulled on his beanie, tucked his physics-defying curls up into it, and took his spangle-taped nose off into the darkness without another word.

He’d already said plenty.

Runaan watched him go, still taking calming breaths. Too much whiskey. That glass salad bowl. Will giggling helplessly. Both of his hands around Runaan’s.

“I’m checking the back door and the windows,” Janai said. “That guy creeps me out.” She stalked past and vanished into the back hallway.

Runaan glanced at Opeli to see how she was doing, just as she turned to look at him. Her lower lip trembled, and she clutched her tea mug against her chest.

“You saved me,” she murmured. “At least three times, maybe more. I lost count.”

Runaan smiled and shook his head. “It was no trouble.” _Except the trouble I brought with me._

“What can I do to repay you?” she asked, leaning forward. “I bake a mean Dutch baby.” At Runaan’s confused frown, she added, “The German baked pancake thing?”

His expression cleared. “Ah. Let me guess, you have a secret ingredient?”

“I do,” she preened. “But I’ll write up the recipe for you anyway. You deserve it.”

“I’m just glad I was there to help.” The truth of his words sank into his chest like a warm light—it _did_ feel good to lend his talents without being contracted for them. Even if Aaravos had muddied things by tracking him here and putting a dent in Opeli’s car hood with his face. And dropping that crack about croutons winning, as if it hadn’t yanked Runaan three years into the past and dumped him in a private curtained booth in an exclusive Italian restaurant. How had he _known_?

_“Come on, Runaan! We can’t have the croutons winning, now, can we?” Will said, setting his sixth whiskey on the table with a clatter. “Here. I’ve trained in swordplay. Let me show you.” The actor stood unsteadily on the curved red leather seat and stepped across Runaan’s lap like a Colossus of Rhodes._

_Runaan jerked his gaze to the narrow window above the booth. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t stand so high. You’re visible through the windows.”_

_“Relax, look, I’m sitting down right now.” And he did, right on the table before Runaan. He swept stoneware and silverware alike aside and plunked the glass salad bowl between his thighs. “Behold. The_ enemy _.” Then he took Runaan’s hand, pressed a fork into it, and held it over the salad. “The key to defeating any crouton, Runaan, no matter how hard, is to break it down into defenseless pieces. In fact, the harder it is, the easier it is to shatter. Like so.” He took Runaan’s hand in both of his and pumped it up and down, attacking each crouton with Runaan’s fork and giggling drunkenly when it cracked. When Runaan got over his initial flusterment and pulled his hand away, Will leaned in and bit the stray salad leaves off Runaan’s fork with a slurred hum._

_Runaan hid his discomfort in the shadows of the silk curtains. “Sit. Down. It’s not safe up there.”_

_Will flopped onto the red leather and draped an arm across his eyes. “You’re no fun at all, Deimos. A right crouton.”_

Runaan had assumed that his buzzed client couldn’t see his cheeks blazing in the dimness. But maybe he had, after all. Or maybe it didn’t matter. It had always been hard to tell what Will was really up to behind his suave exterior and soulful eyes.

 _Aaravos, you bastard_. _How did you know about the croutons?_

“Ask me about Ethari, then,” Opeli offered softly, breaking into Runaan’s swirling thoughts. “If you hadn’t come for that, I’d have been in a lot of trouble.”

Runaan took a breath and sighed with grateful relief. Picturing his boyfriend’s face sent those silk curtains spinning, muted Will’s laughter, drew the herbed aroma of the crushed croutons from his mind, and replaced it all with soft brown lips curving into a quiet smile. The sound of his own name on Ethari’s tongue echoed around his mind and chased every last fragment of that dark spiral away.

He didn’t realize he’d been sitting there with a goofy smile on his face until Opeli nudged his elbow. “Out loud, I meant,” she teased lightly.

“What? Oh.” Runaan looked down and felt his cheeks flush. She chuckled at him and sipped her tea, waiting. He took another deep breath and straightened up, shifting to face her more directly. “How long have you known him?”

“About six years. He started working at the shop just before Christmas that year. I remember he got really excited about helping to hang up all the decorations. And he was really tall and not afraid of heights, so I was happy to let him climb the ladder for me.” Opeli grinned.

Runaan fidgeted with one of his hoodie pulls. “Has anything bad ever happened to him, or…”

“What do you mean? Like a breakup?”

Runaan frowned. “I… I didn’t mean that, but… he had a bad breakup?”

“A couple of them, actually. Killian was just on a rebound, but Zay was a piece of work.” She took a big breath as if she was about to launch into a big gossip fest, but then she caught herself and sipped her tea again. “Anyway. They weren’t good for him.”

“I know you care about him, Opeli,” Runaan said softly. “I’m not prying for details. I can ask him later. But… how did he handle them?”

An incisive look slowly overtook Opeli’s face, and she studied Runaan with all the judgy force of one steeped in the Ways of the Karen. “Are you planning to break _up_ with him, Mr. Deimos? Because let me tell you, mister. _Ethari is a good person_. He’s one of the kindest and gentlest people I know. Is it _his_ fault that he keeps falling for complicated guys with baggage? Maybe. But you know what? _He keeps falling_. You hear me? Ethari’s heart is as big as the _moon_. He’s been through some pretty nasty stuff, and yeah, he was really shattered for a while, but he pulled himself together, and he _kept_ pulling, and maybe he fell apart in the bathroom at work and cried a time or two, but _who hasn’t_? And then, eventually, he found out how to be okay again. That first day when he could smile again as he walked into work, I got tears in my eyes because I’d missed that happy smile so much. Ethari can take a _lot_. I’ve seen it. But he can also _give_ a lot. He’s _deep_ , and he’s _thoughtful_ , and he’s not scared of his own _feelings_. So, _Mr. Deimos_ , let me tell _you_ something. You go ahead and break up with Ethari if you want to. You break his heart and you ruin his day. Maybe his whole month, because you know what, I think he really _loves_ you. But you go wreck all that trust, and all that devotion, you _wreck_ it if you want to. Because you know what? You know what? _It won’t matter._ You can shatter Ethari’s _heart_. It’s happened before. But you can never, _ever_ , break _who Ethari is_. He’s too strong, he’s too kind, and you know what, he loves himself too much to take _anybody_ else’s word on how much he’s worth. So. _There_.”

Runaan stared up into Opeli’s face with wide eyes. At some point during her rant, she’d gotten to her feet and loomed over him, and she’d jabbed him in the shoulder multiple times for emphasis. Now she breathed angrily through her nose and glared down at him, wearing a classic “boy I sure showed him” expression.

“Ethari really loves me?” Runaan blurted.

“What?” Opeli puffed, confused.

“You said… Ethari really loves me?”

Opeli threw her hands in the air. “Yes! Absolutely! Well… he acts like it, anyway.”

Runaan wilted a little. “But he… didn’t say anything…?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Opeli growled. She jabbed him in the shoulder again for good measure.

With the cautious wariness he usually reserved for having a gun pointed at him, Runaan raised his hands harmlessly. “I’m not breaking up with him, Opeli.”

Her expression instantly dissolved into confusion. “… _Oh_. Well then, why did you ask how he handled bad breakups?”

Runaan started to pinch the bridge of his nose but flinched back when his fingers brushed Ethari’s dark blue tape job. He settled for a longsuffering sigh and a rueful shake of his head. “It’s alright. You answered my question well enough.”

Opeli plopped back down beside him and took a gulp of her tea. “Sorry. He’s a good guy. If I did romance myself, I might’ve had a crush on him when he first started working there, just because he was so sweet. But I don’t do crushes. Whew, huh? Dodged a couple of bullets there. But it’s been really nice, having him around the shop all these years. He never got weird around me. You know, because he’s gay.”

“I did know that, yes,” Runaan supplied dryly.

Opeli hummed a quick laugh. “He’s also the kind of guy who keeps an eye on everyone in case they need backup. I’ve only needed it a couple of times, but Ethari was right there, defusing things before they got too weird with some customer who assumed I liked flirting. He told me a couple of times that I should look into some self defense classes, too, just for the confidence boost. So when I got a coupon for six months’ free instruction at this dojo in the mail last week, I knew it had to be from him.”

Runaan’s eyebrows shot up, but he kept quiet.

Opeli continued, “He really shouldn’t have spent all that money on me—it’s not my birthday or anything, and he already made me a cute little frog sculpture for Christmas. But that’s the kind of guy Ethari is. So….” She finished off her tea and fiddled with the mug handle before looking Runaan in the eye. “So please, Mr. Deimos, don’t break his heart. He’s good and true, and he’s one of the best people I know. He’ll go all out for you. I’m not sure he knows any other way to be. He just loves people with his whole heart. And I can’t imagine him ever deserving anything bad. Especially not from someone who…” She bit the inside of her lip thoughtfully, trying to find the right words. “…From someone who looks at him the way you do. I don’t need romance. But I do think it’s beautiful. And the way that you look at each other…” She sighed happily. “It’s _beautiful_. So please keep him safe. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Runaan’s mouth fell open at Opeli’s earnest request. “I’ll guard him in every way I know how,” he said softly. “And please, call me Runaan.”

Janai reentered just then and gave him a crisp nod. “All set. Let’s head out. Runaan, help me make sure the coast is clear.”

Runaan nodded and slid off the stacked mats. The three of them left the dojo together, but Aaravos was nowhere to be seen. The security consultant and the martial artist walked Opeli to her car, and she slid in and started it up, turning her heater on to full blast. She rolled her window down and looked up at her twin saviors. “Thank you both for what you did tonight. Janai, I’ll be back Tuesday night for the next class, and every class after that. My friend wants me to be safe, and I see now that he’s right to worry over me. And Mr. Deimos—uh—Runaan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m holding you to what you said about Ethari. I know I’m not the intimidating sort like you are. But if you ever hurt my friend, I’ll change your prescription in my system, and you’ll never see clearly again.” She pointed two fingers at her own eyes and then his, then she revved her engine and sped off into the night.

Unnerved by Opeli’s oddly specific threat, Runaan pushed his glasses up a little higher, just to assure himself that they were definitely safe on his face. The last thing he wanted was to lose his focus on Ethari.

Janai braced a hand on Runaan’s shoulder and gave him a little push of affectionate assessment. “You fought well. Amaya will be glad to hear you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Runaan returned the gesture, letting his arm rest against hers. “Don’t tell her about the bruises on my shins, then. Your escrima sticks are hard.”

“Sure, blame the sticks instead of the big guy who hit you with them. So… Opeli thinks the dojo coupon is from Ethari?”

Runaan managed a lopsided smile. “Shhh.”

Janai let out a disbelieving snort. “You were right after all, the night we talked in your kitchen. You _are_ a pudding cup.” She prodded his firm abs with a finger. “Soft and gooey in the middle.”

Runaan turned his grin toward the direction Opeli had driven off. “She’ll be a very motivated student after this. I hope you can handle her.”

Janai turned her supportive gesture into a quick hug. “Meet me at the house and I’ll get you something for your bruises. And because I’m such a nice friend, I won’t even ask how far off tonight was from whatever scheme you had planned when you bought her that coupon.”

Runaan hugged her back and nudged her shoulder with his. “What would I do without you, Janai?”

“Worse, Runaan. You’d do worse.”

Runaan clapped a hand to his chest as if struck, but he grinned. “The absolute _accuracy_.”

Janai’s smile softened. “You want to make stir-fry with us tonight?”

Runaan’s stomach growled. After a beat, he raised his brows and said, “Apparently.”

He drove home behind her truck, fully expecting to fall back into the spiral that Aaravos had tripped him into. But every time his mind conjured Will’s teasing voice, his confusion and embarrassment fluttered away like silk scarves in the wind.

Because Ethari loved himself too much to take anyone else’s word on how much he was worth, no matter how they treated him. And Runaan knew in his heart that Ethari was right to value himself so, because he _was_ precious and sweet, and his smile was above all price. Runaan was drawn to that confidence like a bee to a flower, thirsty for that bone-deep belief that Ethari had in himself, hungry for the strength to rise again after falling so far.

 _How does he do it?_ Runaan thought desperately as he followed Janai’s taillights, shoving the croutons aside for the tenth time, eagerly dwelling on the mystery of Ethari’s confidence. _I need to know. Maybe I need a second mission._

***

Ethari’s phone blared “Strut” while he was in the shower Saturday morning. He quickly rinsed the last of the shampoo out of his hair, slammed off the water, and flailed for a towel and his phone. He caught his foot in the shower curtain and almost tripped against the edge of the extra-big bathtub he and his dad had installed when he moved in. “Shit, shit, dammit,” he blurted as he stumbled out onto the mat, hopping on one foot and nursing a bruise on his other ankle. Dripping wet and shivering, he checked the screen. “Fucking kidding me. A video call? In this lighting?” He snorted at himself. “Yeah why not.” He tapped to accept.

“Hello, I’m Ethari, and I’m cold and wet,” he deadpanned, running wet fingers through his messy, dripping hair. “Please deposit five dollars to purchase me a towel. Fluffy robes are only ten.” Goosebumps rippled across his chest as he glanced down at his new bruise. “Or, uh, you can spend a buck fifty and get me a bandage for my ankle, because I’m just _so clumsy_ and I need someone big and strong to take care of me.” He managed a cheesy anime grin while balancing on one foot and added a peace sign for good measure.

Runaan’s eyes widened with confusion. They traveled down his screen and then kept going as if he could see the rest of Ethari as well, before snapping back up to Ethari’s face. “Uhh… Venmo okay?”

Ethari lost it, doubling over and wheezing at his overly serious boyfriend’s reaction. After leaning on the wall for a second, he straightened up and started rubbing his hair with a towel, still chuckling. “Towel accepted! Thanks, hon…”

Runaan’s cheeks had gone fuchsia, and his eyes were wide.

Ethari paused his toweling and tried to remember where his phone camera might’ve gotten pointed during his attack of the giggles. He didn’t mind, but Runaan’s cheeks sure seemed like they’d come across something… unexpected. “Runaan? Everything okay?”

“Y- Uhm.” Runaan cleared his throat and looked away for a minute, blinking and trying not to grin. “I just called to get your opinion on something. Do you, uh, want me to call back in a few minutes? Maybe after you, uhm, put something on?”

“Pffff,” Ethari scoffed. He tossed his towel over the top of the shower curtain rod to dry and pulled his comfy blue robe from the hook on the bathroom door. As he shrugged into it one arm at a time, he said, “I’m not busy. What’s up?”

Runaan snapped his mouth shut and swallowed hard, eyes glued to the screen as he watched Ethari’s movements. “Um, I wanted to… to know what you thought of this outfit.”

“What outfit?” Ethari managed to tie his robe shut with one hand and reached for the bathroom door knob before glancing back at his screen.

Runaan had switched cameras while Ethari had glanced away, and now he stood reflected in a full length mirror, wearing a tuxedo jacket and pants, black bowtie, crisp white pleated shirt, and a heavy blush that made his eyes seem nearly electric.

“ _Hhnghhly god_ …” Ethari’s entire body twitched hard, and he jerked the bathroom door open and slammed it into his forehead. “Ow, shit!” he exclaimed, reeling back and clapping a hand over the point of impact. “Ah, fuck…” His bruised ankle failed him, and he staggered back again, reaching for anything to hold onto. “No no, _god—aah_ — _!_ ” The shower curtain popped free of its hooks one by one as Ethari landed sharply on his butt, and his wet towel flopped from the curtain rod over his head, consummating his utter surrender to Runaan’s hotness. “…Fuck.”

“Ethari? Are you hurt?”

Ethari peeked out from under his towel of shame to see that Runaan had switched the camera back and was staring worriedly with a hand over his mouth. He winced and looked down the tumbled length of himself as he leaned his shoulders against the tub with his body sprawled across half the bathroom floor. His robe had pulled askew, he was heaving for breath, his skin was rippling with goosebumps, and his butt was sore from impact. All from a single glance at his boyfriend looking devastatingly glorious in a tux. He dissolved into snorting giggles and tried to muffle them in his towel. “Buy me dinner first next time,” he chortled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“…What?”

“And dancing. I want to go dancing, too,” he added.

“Okay, but—”

“No, my _butt_ is not really _okay_ ,” Ethari said. He rubbed his hip and offered a comically exaggerated wince. “No such thing as too much lube.”

Runaan’s blush returned in full force as he finally caught up with Ethari’s joke. “Oh my _god_.”

Ethari wheezed helplessly all over again. “I’m, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, it was _right there_ … _so funny_ … _ah_ , god.” With subsiding chuckles, he levered himself back up, got himself back in order, and headed to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee, giving the bathroom door a wide berth. He pulled a mug from the cupboard and was about to fill it with coffee when he realized Runaan hadn’t said anything in several seconds. He set the pot back down. “Runaan? Did I mess something up? You were trying to be serious, and I was a total dork. I’m sorry—”

“No, Ethari, don’t apologize.” Runaan’s reply was swift enough to cut him off, but softly, and his eyes glowed warmly. “I love your chaos. You made this a lot easier just by being yourself.”

Ethari frowned at his boyfriend in confusion. “Made what easier?”

Runaan let out a breathy chuckle. “If I switch the camera back, will you _try_ not to let the tuxedo have its way with you this time? I really do need your opinion.”

“Okay, but let me sit down first. I’m having heart palpitations at the very _thought_ of you in a tux.”

“That’s probably just the coffee.”

“You say that, but see, I haven’t drunk any yet!”

“…Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“No, no, thank _you_.” Ethari poured himself a cup and sat at his little table, nudging his bunny project aside to make room for his coffee. “Okay, hit me.”

Runaan’s soft smile swapped out, and the full length mirror returned, revealing what, on second glance, seemed to be a large walk-in closet playing backdrop to the hottest guy Ethari had ever seen. He tongued a molar and murmured “ _Hnnnn_ ” as his eyes dragged across Runaan’s broad shoulders, hovered at his narrow waist, and trailed down those long, long legs.

Mirror Runaan lifted an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

Ethari’s eyes widened. _Why did I think I was on mute? Did I hit my head?_ “Oh, you heard that, huh?”

That tiny, telling pause again. “Nope.”

“Whew, ‘cause that would be embarrassing,” he joked. “So what do you need my opinion on? Besides the fact that you’re absolutely putting James Bond to shame right now. Daniel Craig who?”

Runaan looked down, forgetting that such a gesture didn’t hide his smile at all in the full length mirror. Ethari’s heart yearned hard, and his palms began to sweat. His vision doubled, and he saw himself crumple Runaan’s broad, silky lapels in hot fists and back him against the wall until his shoulders thumped against it, making him gasp just as Ethari took his mouth in a hungry kiss. His hands played across Runaan’s chest, feeling the ridges of his musculature through the thin white dress shirt, and Runaan moaned eagerly around his tongue—

“I have a dinner engagement on the first,” Runaan said, interrupting Ethari’s fantasy. “I need to decide what to wear, and… who to invite… so I thought I’d double up and ask both questions at the same time.”

Ethari’s chest was already heaving from his closet fantasy, but Runaan’s words filled it with soft, clear light. Runaan wasn’t just flexing his hotness—he wanted a date! The corner of Ethari’s mouth lifted as he realized that his most recent fantasy might come true just like the shop mirror one had. “Well, I haven’t actually heard either question yet, so… whenever you’re ready, just ask.”

Runaan switched the camera back and sat down on a padded leather stool. “I’m not very good at being social for social’s sake,” he said. “You know anyone who could help me out with that?”

Ethari pretended to ponder. “Is Zachary Quinto available? Or Adam Lambert? No wait, he has a boyfriend… Uhh, maybe J. August Richards?”

Runaan leveled a knowing look at Ethari. A tiny smile flirted from the corner of his mouth. “I already asked them, but they’re all busy that night. They said I should ask you though. What do you say? Want to shepherd me through a fancy shindig and keep me from losing my mind?”

Ethari bit his lip and glanced down as if drinking in Runaan’s tux again. “Will you be wearing that?”

Runaan bobbed his head to the side undecidedly. “Maybe. It’s either this, or a black suit jacket with no tie.”

“Let’s see it, then,” Ethari said expectantly.

Runaan propped his phone on a shelf, stood up, and stepped out of view as he peeled off the tux jacket. In a few moments, he sat back down in a sober black suit jacket with straight, narrow lapels.

“This one, but without the fancy shirt and tie,” Runaan said.

Ethari licked his lips. That jacket was doing Runaan’s shoulders every favor. “I’ll be your date on one condition, then.”

Runaan’s brows lifted softly. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Ethari rose and walked back toward his bedroom, keeping his eyes on his phone. He’d never joke with Runaan about taking off his shirt, not after helping him reset his rib, but… “No bowtie. A bowtie killed my parents in a former life. Can’t stand it. Take it off.”

As Ethari stepped into his bedroom, Runaan smirked and slouched artistically against the wall. His fingers pulled roughly at his bowtie, freeing it and stripping it from around his neck in one seductive tug. With the soft strip of black cloth still dangling from his fingers like a hunted prize, Runaan bit his lip through a grin and popped the button on his collar, exposing his throat.

Ethari gripped his phone in both hands and toppled backward onto his bed with an ecstatic yelp. “I can’t help myself, Runaan! The tuxedo’s gonna have its way with me again!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan's Confession Chapter. Prodded by events beyond his control, Runaan makes a terrible choice and hurts Ethari. But Ethari knows what trauma does to people, and he's not willing to abandon Runaan to his past. Together, they let themselves be vulnerable, and a night that started so terribly ends up bringing them closer than they ever dreamed.
> 
> This chapter is over 30k words long. It's very intense in positive and negative ways. Please take your time with it, or skip ahead, or bail completely if it isn't fun for you to read. I won't mind. And, once again: Tissue Warning. You'll probably need at least one.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS RATED MATURE FOR MULTIPLE REASONS. PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS IN THE NOTES.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soft content promises:** Smooches, cuddles, snuggles, fluff, blankets, comfy T-shirts, eating together, sleeping together, cooking together, hair washing, hair combing, hair braiding, forehead presses, soft murmuring, hugging, relaxing together
> 
>  **Spicy content promises:** shared shower, toppy Ethari, praise kink, shared handjob, sexiest therapy ever, sensual touching, lots of lap sitting, toppy Runaan but euphemistically, making waffles sexy, strawberries and chocolate are already sexy but oh my god
> 
>  **Content warnings:** anxiety, PTSD, alcohol, dubcon issues, mention of dubcon, mention of sexual assault, manipulative behavior, shouting, trauma, mention of torture, mention of assault, mention of pain, burns, nudity, description of scars, vomiting, self-esteem issues, negativity, wounds, mention of violent death, mention of plane crash, consent issues, handjob, mild pinning, mention of violence, trauma coping/visualization, recording without consent
> 
> Please let me know if I've missed a content warning and I'll add it.

Runaan’s phone rang as he poured hazelnut creamer into his latest cup of coffee. When he glanced at the number, his brows drew together in suspicion. Local area code, but ending in four zeroes. With a jaded sigh over the impossible contact, he shot Ferg a knowing glance as if it were a call from someone far more kissable. Then he strode down the hall, locked himself in the warehouse’s supply closet, and tapped to answer. “Aaravos. Is 9pm late or early for you?”

His rival tsked in disappointment. “I can’t even surprise you anymore, Runaan. I’ll have to up my game.”

“Your game is already up,” Runaan quipped. “You’ve made no secret of your agenda.”

“Do you truly think so little of me, my friend?” the enforcer lilted.

“You’ve made that pretty easy—” Runaan began, but Aaravos’s soft, drawn-out chuckle sent a chill worm of worry into his gut. _It was pretty easy, wasn’t it? Dammit._ “Alright, I can see I’ve underestimated you. Why the phone call? Come to gloat about your next move? Trying to prod me again?”

“I offer a heads-up. We are allies of a sort, for the time being. I can’t risk my plan going astray, which means, in this case, I can’t risk yours going astray either.”

The cold twist in his belly knotted more tightly. Runaan plunked his coffee on a shelf next to a jug of bleach and settled atop a metal barrel. “Speak plainly. I have a headache and you’re making it worse.”

“It’s Viren. He wants reassurance.”

Runaan’s stomach clenched. “That I’m compromised?”

“Yes.”

The security consultant fiddled with his coffee cup, leaving thumbnail dents in its rim, and thought of Ethari’s smile. His own lips moved softly to match it. They’d been texting and flirting all day, and Runaan had enjoyed himself far more than was seemly. _God, I’m compromised as fuck._ He took a sharp breath and let it out. “I’m not going to hurt him.”

Aaravos hummed in amusement. “So defensive. Did I suggest you should? All Viren needs is proof that your focus is off the mission. My job is to get said proof. But I thought it best to leave the creative design up to you. So, Runaan: how might you best prove that your ardent passion has drifted from keeping your eye on Viren… to keeping your eye on Ethari?”

Runaan’s defensive hackles rose as he felt the subtle nudge in Aaravos’s words. But he was not immune to his own feelings, no matter how he tried to partition them for work. The room faded away around him, and several memories crashed together in his mind, tangling, overlapping, heated and needy. Ethari backing him against the mirror in his foyer, Ethari pinning him against the silk hammock and murmuring seductive words in his ear, Ethari wriggling beneath him in panicked arousal during their gaming session, Ethari bucking and moaning with his thumb pressed all the way down his throat, Ethari eagerly letting Runaan lean forward between his thighs in the eyeglass shop. Ethari. Ethari. _Ethari_.

The room came back into focus, and its light and color blazed at him. Runaan smiled ruefully—his pupils had blown wide and left him dazzled. Just as Ethari had.

“…I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” Aaravos murmured.

Runaan snorted, immediately wincing as it pained his broken nose. “You never had me.”

At that, Aaravos laughed again, as he had in Janai’s dojo. It set off a few alarms deep in Runaan’s head. “Ah, Runaan. Let’s play nicely, yes? You know what you want. Just take it, and make it good.”

 _Just take it and make it good, he says. As if I’m a dancing bear, a tiger at the circus. A porn star_. _As if I’m Will._ The connection stabbed too deeply for comfort. “I don’t work for you.”

Runaan expected Aaravos to laugh again, but he was perfectly silent for a second too long. “Viren needs something from you, Runaan. If he doesn’t get it, he’ll send me to fetch it. And none of us want that.”

“You sure?” Runaan heard an angry growl rise in the back of his throat. “You seem to enjoy threatening to visit my boyfriend if I don’t.”

The tiniest of sighs carried over the line. “Because I know you’ll fall for it, darling. I don’t deliver threats. I deliver results.”

Runaan frowned, perplexed. Every time he thought he had a handle on Aaravos, the man pivoted out of frame. “Let me think,” he grated. “Don’t you fucking touch him. You wait until I call back. You hear me, Aaravos? Don’t you fucking _move_ until your phone rings. Have a coffee or something, read a book. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Aaravos let out a patient breath. “I await your illuminating proposal.” He hung up.

Runaan bared his teeth at his phone and shoved it in his back pocket, where Aaravos could kiss his ass. “Bastard.” He glared at his coffee, then looked away. He was plenty awake now.

***

Aaravos set his phone down and lifted his mochaccino to his lips. The light in the sky outside the penthouse suite’s glassed-in solarium had long since breathed its dying gasp at the horizon, and the comforting shroud of night had claimed the heavens once again. He sighed and propped one boot on the empty chair across the table from him. Tonight would be a turning point in his plans, one way or another. He could feel it. He hoped Runaan could feel it, too.

He glanced through the solarium’s glass doors. Across the suite, Viren’s door had shut an hour ago. The willowy man rolled his shoulders, then he pulled off his black beanie, lifted his hair up off his neck, and let its curls tumble over the back of his chair. He could leave it down while he waited for Runaan’s call without much worry that Viren would see it. He always got so grabby. But Viren’s nonstop drive to possess the Light of Katolis already proved that he was obsessed with pretty things. As if, by surrounding himself with them, he himself might become more beautiful by association.

The corner of Aaravos’s mouth lifted. _Ironic._

After another chocolatey sip and some mindfulness breathing, Aaravos opened his favorite fanfic on his phone and began reading where he’d left off.

How nice to have a moment to just be himself.

***

Runaan told Ferg the truth about the reason for his sudden departure: “Aaravos.” But he drove home, needing the comfort of familiar surroundings to think. He’d planned to sit and write out some ideas in an attempt to hold onto logic and reason, but the drive home had left him shaky and anxious, and he only made it to the living room before he set his glasses on the coffee table and began pacing. The dark thoughts he’d kept at bay in the car by telling himself he’d sort them out in a few minutes now gathered like storm clouds, and he had nowhere to take shelter from them. Their arrival was inevitable.

He needed a plan. Something to keep Viren off balance. But in order to do that, he knew he had to off-balance himself. That had always been how this was going to work.

 _I’ve been falling toward Ethari on purpose for a while now. And I haven’t been balanced in years. What’s one more day_? Runaan thought, trying to twist himself into a shape that would be okay with what he feared was rising in him.

But the darkness wasn’t bringing _one more day_. It was bringing back a day that had already come to pass. No ordinary unbalancing would keep Viren’s suspicions at bay. Runaan needed to land hard. To be _seen_ landing hard.

The first shadow of the thunderstorm fell across his consciousness, and in a black flash, Runaan envisioned the perfect hard landing. Such a fall would truly be one of Biblical proportions. He sucked in a pained gasp. _No… no, I can’t… Not that—I_ can’t _!_

 _You can’t fall any further than that,_ the darkness whispered, curling around him _. If you throw yourself from this tower, everyone will believe in your utter ruin before you even hit the ground. Ethari will be safe. Your mission secure. Why not use it?_

His breathing shallowed out as his anxiety rose, and he found himself in the kitchen. Without thinking, he tugged a knife from the knife block and hurled it toward the corkboard on the wall across the room.

It stabbed through the soft wood perfectly, quivering in place.

Runaan stared at it, his chest heaving. He drew out another knife and threw it, too. And another. And another.

Their grouping in the corkboard was immaculate.

With a desperate growl, Runaan drew, spun, and threw a heavy chef’s knife without looking. The sound of it sinking into the corkboard—and the wall behind it—was unmistakable. _Fucking hell_.

Runaan bowed his head and seized his ponytail in knotted fists just behind his neck. His scars pulled taut with the motion, resisting the stretch. Something was stirring in the depths of his mind—something so big that it boggled his sense of dimension, of time and space. He couldn’t stop its rise now. It was coming, and it would find him. Layered deep—too deep—within its dark, smoky tendrils lay a plan. A plan not of his own making. Even acknowledging that it lurked there horrified him. He paced around the kitchen island with his eyes shut and his hands strangling his hair, muttering an angry string of whimpers like desperate prayers to all the gods whom he’d never found the right sacrifices to appease.

No one had ever heard him before. His pleas, his pain, his begging for peace. He was on his own now, too.

 _That’s not true_ , a tiny voice whispered. It sounded a lot like his therapist. _You have friends you trust. They know you, and they accept you._

Tears squeezed through Runaan’s tight lids. _They know part of me. But no one knows all of me. And they have each other. There’s no room for this with them. I can’t ask them to carry this, too._

An image sprang into his mind’s eye: Ethari, smiling, offering a hand. Soft and strong and relentlessly gentle. Runaan’s heart spasmed and twisted, ashamed of how much he needed him, of how much he wanted to unburden himself to him. To let himself be loved…

With a broken cry, he yanked open the silverware drawer and jerked out a handful of butter knives. They flew across the room one by one, and far too many of them struck true into the corkboard. The forks followed, first singly, and then in twos and threes, and still some of them found their mark. In horror at his unwanted accuracy, Runaan flung all the spoons across the kitchen with a roar of denial. “Just let me be _wrong_!” he shouted.

The spoons’ discordant, clanging clatter slammed against him from all sides. He fell forward onto his elbows atop the island and covered his ears, sobbing, feeling his breath hitch raggedly. _It’s coming, and it’s going to work, and I hate it, and I can’t stop it._

_I can’t stop it._

He lifted his gaze from the hot drops of his tears on the polished granite countertop and spied the stainless steel fridge. _I can’t stop it_ , he silently repeated, as the cold black tendrils of his plan reached his eyes and shadowed them with the inevitability that had always been clawing its way toward him.

He pulled open the fridge door and stared at the untouched bottle of vodka that had been sitting there for weeks. He stared so long that the fridge began to beep at him to shut its door.

Startled into motion, Runaan reached for the vodka.

 _Can’t stop it._ _But I can numb it_.

***

Aaravos’s phone played the first lilting measures of Carrie Underwood’s “Blown Away,” and he tapped to accept Runaan’s call. “Yes, darling?”

“You still up?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I’m about to do something I’m going to regret.”

The security consultant’s voice sounded slurred. “Ooh, do tell,” Aaravos cooed.

Runaan sketched out his plan and finished with, “Meet me in twenty minutes. Bring whatever you need. I’m not waiting for you.”

“Darling, I shall be there with bells on.”

***

Runaan’s parking job was nowhere near parallel. It involved one tire up on the sidewalk. He kicked his door wide open, rested one boot out on the pavement, and let the chilly night air pool around him.

 _He’ll let me in. It’ll be okay. Won’t be the same. Dunno why I was worried._ He tipped the vodka bottle against his lips. Its contents roiled in his stomach and he glanced down for something to chase away its taste. But all he saw was another old cup of cold coffee jammed into a drink holder.

The cup was crystal clear despite the gathering fog. Runaan pulled off his glasses with a shudder. He didn’t want to look too closely at anything tonight. The folded frames got tucked into their case and slid into the pocket over his heart—

A warm body slid into his lap sideways, as if the space between his thighs were a bucket seat. “Good evening, Runaan. Loosening up for your nocturnal activities, I see?” Aaravos clinked his bedazzled flask against the vodka. “How enthusiastic of you.”

“The fuck?” Runaan blinked and turned his head, trying to figure out where the tall black man had come from.

His unwanted guest’s beanie brushed the roof of the car, and his long fingers delicately adjusted the lapels on Runaan’s leather jacket, sliding something delicate into place. “There we go. You want to look your best for your man tonight, don’t you?”

A sickening swirl of self-hatred blasted up Runaan’s spine and curled his lip. “If you don’t get the _fuck_ outta my lap by the count of ‘Fuck you,’ I’m gonna use your face to dent my _own_ car’s hood. And I fucking _love_ my car.”

Aaravos’s eyes widened. After a bare moment of shock, he smoothly exited Runaan’s car and stood out of reach on the street. He tented his fingers and eyed Runaan cautiously. “Are you quite sure this is the way y—”

Runaan surged out of his car, slammed the door with one foot, and shoved the half-empty bottle into Aaravos’s hands. His parting words as he strode down the hill toward Ethari’s apartment landed softly through a gloom of fog: “Hope you brought marshmallows, my good bitch, ‘cause one way or another tonight’s gonna be hot as hell.”

***

Ethari pulled his headphones down and listened in the quiet of his apartment as he sat working on his little metal bunny. After a moment, he heard the muffled thumping at his door again. He checked the time as he paused the music on his phone—it wasn’t that late yet. Maybe Enrique needed to borrow his hot glue gun for another one of his son’s school art projects. He grinned and went to open the door.

As it swung wide, Ethari’s vision was filled with the sight of a looming dark specter in a black leather jacket and a halo of gleaming white hair. Runaan’s eyes blazed in the night as he held onto the lintel of Ethari’s doorjamb with one careless hand.

Ethari’s eyes widened eagerly. “Runaan? I thought you said you couldn’t—”

“Fuck what I said, don’t listen to me.” Runaan captured the back of Ethari’s neck with his free hand and swung in through the doorway toward him in one smooth, intent motion. He hungrily claimed Ethari’s mouth, pressed him against the wall next to the door, and shoved it shut with one foot.

Runaan tasted of heat and alcohol. Ethari’s tummy flipped several times in a row as his shoulders thudded against the wall. His boyfriend’s heat and arousal pressed against him, and his fingers curled tightly into Ethari’s T-shirt, taking up its slack, pulling taut across his chest, holding him in place. Ethari’s hands pulled Runaan against him, sliding across the cold leather of his jacket, and a breathless whimper escaped his lips around their kiss.

Runaan slid his hands possessively down Ethari’s body until he claimed his ass, scooping it away from the wall and cupping him with strong hands. He jerked their hips together and then body checked Ethari back against the wall with a needy groan. Ethari’s own need blossomed hot in response. His mind exploded with euphoria, and a string of helpless, ecstatic noises tumbled off his tongue.

Runaan finished their kiss with a nibbly suck on his bottom lip and let it slip free with an audible pop. He leaned his right hand against the wall next to Ethari’s head and claimed his chin with his left. The direct look he leveled at Ethari glittered with something sharp and distant, and his cheeks were flushed beneath the deep blue stripes across his nose. In a voice rough with emotion and vodka, he grated, “Tell me that was alright.”

The faintest of echoes rang around Runaan’s head, but Ethari didn’t know what they meant. His eyes, his breath, his skin, his arms, were all full of Runaan. “Yes, _god_ , _so_ much better than alright,” he gushed. “Can you stay?”

In response, Runaan knotted a fist in the waistband of Ethari’s sweat pants and tugged him away from the wall. He turned his breathless boyfriend around and backed him across the front room, driving him wild with a deep kiss of reckless abandon. Then he pushed Ethari down onto the couch lengthwise and knelt up over him. “I need your mouth.” Runaan tightened his fists in Ethari’s hair, as if to hold him steady. But then something flickered in the vast darkness of his large pupils, and he crouched down and kissed him hungrily. Against his lips, Runaan murmured, “I need it hot.” His hands ran free along Ethari’s chest, rumpling his soft T-shirt, exposing his midriff. “I need it messy.”

Ethari arched into a breathless whimper and clutched at Runaan’s leather jacket. Runaan’s left hand found the heated skin of his stomach and slid up under his shirt. His cool fingers played eagerly, and his palm slid up over Ethari’s abs and across his pecs. He stretched the shirt’s fabric taut across his forearm as he cupped the back of Ethari’s neck and pulled him harder into their kiss.

“ _Mmmff_ , god, _fhhhck_ …” Ethari moaned against his lips. “I’m _very_ much hot mess material right now.”

Runaan straightened up over him and shucked his jacket, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Ethari’s heart rocketed again as he realized Runaan had come over in the same outfit he’d worn the night of their date: a green sleeveless shirt with an asymmetrical silver zip over softly worn black jeans. The rough cut on his right arm sported new butterfly strips, and its healing color gave him a rakish, dangerous look. Runaan tugged at the button fly on his jeans, but as the shiny buttons popped free, Runaan swayed on his knees, and his smile slipped.

Ethari caught him at the hips and steadied him. “Hey, whoa now. Don’t you fall without me.”

Runaan shuffled his knees closer along the couch and slipped a hand inside his jeans. “Already f-fell. Crashed and burned. Died a long time ago. Jumping one more time won’t hurt.”

 _Wait, what?_ Despite his raging boner and weeks of pent-up desire, Ethari’s mind muscled its way through his lusty yearnings and waved a bright red flag at him. He squeezed his boyfriend’s hips reassuringly and tried to swallow back his worries. “Runaan, I thought you didn’t drink. Some kind of medication interaction thing? But you’re pretty hammered. Are you okay, did something happen?”

Runaan clasped Ethari’s chin and tilted his head up. His eyes blazed down like twin moons, cool and distant. Unengaged. “I’ll be fine.”

An icy serpent slithered down around Ethari’s spine, chilling his lust and snapping him out of his heat haze. He’d gladly welcomed Runaan’s rough neediness into his apartment sixty seconds ago, but that old phrase from back before Runaan had begun to trust him told Ethari that something _else_ had come in with him. “Runaan,” he began softly, “I don’t think—”

“You _told_ me this was alright,” Runaan interrupted. He hadn’t pulled himself free of his jeans yet, but he leaned a hand on the arm of the couch next to Ethari’s head and loomed over him.

“I… I did, but…” Ethari licked his lips nervously, hating the feeling of his defensive instincts kicking in because of the man he loved. Or maybe he was just overreacting because Runaan hadn’t been this aggressive before? _Maybe it’ll be alright… I’m probably overreacting…_

“Tell me again,” Runaan slurred. “Tell me s’alright. I want you.” He pulled his hand from his jeans and dragged his thumb across Ethari’s bottom lip.

But the energy of that touch was nothing like what they’d shared on their video call. Runaan pushed too hard, took too much, reacted too little. A big red flag smacked Ethari in the face, and suddenly all he could see was that blurry ceiling in the docks district—that first confusing image before he began to realize how well and truly fucked he was.

 _Oh, fuck no. Definitely not alright._ Ethari pushed Runaan’s hips back, and the former bodyguard wobbled and plopped onto Ethari’s lap. Runaan stared at him in angry surprise. Ethari felt his anxiety surge, but he pushed himself up onto his elbows and glared up at Runaan. “No. It’s not alright.”

“No?”

“You heard me.”

“‘S all you got? Just ‘no’?”

Ethari gritted his teeth against the pain Runaan’s attitude brought. “I don’t need anything else.”

“Maybe I want something else.” Runaan started to crawl forward over Ethari again.

Ethari felt a high-pitched ringing in his chest, as if a glass bell had just been struck a little too hard and was about to shiver itself apart from the force of its own vibrations. He splayed a hand against Runaan’s chest to stop him. “Runaan… don’t. Please.”

Runaan paused. The frustration in his eyes dimmed and twisted. “I’n’t unnerstan. Just wanna make you feel good.”

Zay had sat in his lap, laughing, and poured a doctored drink down his throat while murmuring those exact same words. Six hours later, Ethari snapped back to consciousness with no memory of what had happened or why all his clothes seemed to have taken a collective hike. But the way certain parts of him were aching, he had a decent guess. Or an indecent one. He didn’t start freaking out until he realized Zay had left without him and blocked his number. In the time since, he’d never remembered what happened. _“Just wanna make you feel good.” Bullshit. Of all the goddamned things you could’ve said to me right now—_

The glass bell shattered.

“No, you _don’t_ ,” Ethari seethed. Hot blood pounded in his ears, and he rocketed up, seizing Runaan by his shirt front and shaking him. “You’re only thinking about yourself! You’re giving zero fucks about me right now and I want you to stop it! You got so freaked out by me being too tired to consent at your place, but you come to mine drunk as a rat in a wine barrel and expect me to ignore how pushy you’re being? Runaan, who _are_ you right now? Because _fuck_ that guy.” With a hard certainty he wished he’d had that day with Zay, he shoved Runaan away from him.

Runaan wobbled and slid off Ethari’s lap with a soft cry. He backed to the other end of the couch, looking suddenly fragile, like a cracked mirror ready to shatter. He cupped the side of his head in a shaky hand and echoed, “F-Fuck that guy…?” A mirthless huff followed his words. “I… I almost did.”

“I _definitely_ did!” Ethari shouted, retreating to sit on the arm at his own end of the couch. “And you know what, _that’s wasn’t okay_! Not then, and _not now_!” His chest heaved angrily, and his heart spun like a frantic pulsar. _Runaan isn’t Zay. He isn’t Zay— Zay, get the_ fuck _out of my head!_ “ _Rrrgh_ , gimme a second, I need a second.” Ethari scrubbed his hands over his face and dredged up an old coping mechanism: he shrunk his ex into a tiny action figure, stuck him inside a glass cue ball, and envisioned himself shooting it into a corner pocket that dropped Zay into the vast nothingness of space, where the entire universe would forget he existed.

His vision cleared, his living room returned, and he let out a long, slow, controlled breath, feeling his shoulders relax a little. Across from him, Runaan’s eyes had never been wider, and his expression grew more and more horrified as he seemed to grasp the traumatic reason behind Ethari’s calming ritual. His voice keened high and thin. “Oh god, oh _god_ , _oh my_ _god_ , what’ve I _done_ …” He scooted further from Ethari, backing onto the arm of the couch—and then with an undignified flail, he toppled onto the floor with a series of ungainly thuds. One calf landed atop the couch arm while the rest of him vanished out of sight.

“Runaan?” Ethari scrambled the length of the couch and looked down.

His drunken boyfriend lay in a messy heap of disheveled clothing, with the heels of his hands pressed hard against his eyes. His cheeks flushed bright, making the blue strips across his nose appear even darker. His ponytail sprawled across the floor, and his chest heaved wildly as he sucked air through his teeth.

“Runaan?” Ethari asked again, guardedly. His own breathing was still decidedly uneven.

An animal groan seethed out from between Runaan’s jaws. “I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell for this. I’m _in_ hell.”

Ethari sat back onto his heels and heard his father’s voice echoing forward. _“The devil in a waistcoat, son. That’s your kryptonite.”_ He’d meant those words comfortingly, after Zay. And Ethari had worked really hard to find a better balance since then. But some things hadn’t changed at all, and right there in that moment, he had to ask himself—he _had_ to—whether he’d changed enough, or if it was time to move on. _Runaan might honestly be too much for me to handle. If I stay with him, I might need a second cue ball._

The thought shook him. He’d worked so hard to trust himself again, to trust his instincts. To know his boundaries and never compromise them, and to choose to respect himself as much as he respected everyone else. Maybe now was one of those moments where he needed to respect his own limitations and walk aw—

“I can fix this. Can’t take it back, but… I need you to know that I…” Runaan’s voice was soft, toneless. As if he’d given up. “I just broke your heart, didn’t I? So take mine. Gonna rip it out of my chest for you. Ask me, Ethari. Please.”

Ethari’s very quiet, very intense introspection popped like a bubble. “Ask you what?”

“‘Bout the crash.”

Ethari leaned over the edge of the couch again, but Runaan still lay as he had been, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He didn’t understand how asking about Runaan’s traumatic past would fix anything. And he was very sure he wouldn’t like Runaan’s answers. “Runaan, you don’t have to—”

“No, I need to tell you.”

Ethari tried again. “You don’t owe me that—”

“I do!” Runaan cried, and his voice cracked. He maneuvered himself into a sitting position and stared at the couch arm Ethari was leaning on, unable to raise his eyes any further. “I was an utter prat just now… I had _no right_ …” A ripple of revulsion slid across his features. “Look what I… I forgot everything you _told_ me, and I did everything _wrong_ , and… This is all I have left to give you. Please, just take it. I don’t know how else to make this right.” Two hot tears spilled over the edges of his cheeks, and he closed his eyes, chest heaving.

“Okay.” The word was out before Ethari had time to think. Runaan was offering the worst kind of balance—the story of his trauma to repay Ethari for making him remember his own. But he was right. In this hot mess of a moment, they didn’t have anything else. _Will you love the devil when he takes off that waistcoat, Ethari?_ For some reason, his mind latched onto the gay pirate novels his mom wrote. _Monsters_ are _real, and sometimes they look like us. But sometimes_ we _look like monsters too, when we’re just lost souls needing to find our way back._

He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. “My mom has a line in one of her books: “The tentacles below always outmatch the grapnels overhead.” The strongest bonds we have are the dark ones under the surface. So I _will_ ask you, if you’re sure you’re ready to trust me with the answers.”

Runaan stared up at Ethari, wide-eyed, like a skittish deer. “I…” He shook his head and looked away again. “…Okay. Five questions.”

Ethari’s shoulders slumped in relief at the limitation. _It can’t get too bad that way, can it?_ He licked his lips. Took a breath. “I’ll ask them in the kitchen.”

“What?”

“Let’s get you up and I’ll get you some water. I’m not really comfortable watching you spill your guts in a drunken heap on my floor. and you need to hydrate.” He got up and offered Runaan a hand.

Runaan reached up automatically but halted before taking Ethari’s hand. “How can you…?” He let out a soft, exasperated sound. “I don’t understand. I just made you relive a horrible experience because I’m a terrible person, and you’re offering me water?”

Ethari reached the rest of the way and tugged Runaan unsteadily to his feet. “I am. But you’re not a terrible person, Runaan. You’re just a drunk person, and drunk people need to hydrate. This way.” He steered Runaan into the kitchen by his shoulders, propped him against a countertop, and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. It was one of his favorites, etched on opposite sides with two canonically gay fictional characters in profile, so that holding the glass up and looking through it just so made them cup each other’s cheeks and kiss. He filled it with water and handed it over.

Runaan took the glass but let his fingers linger against Ethari’s. “I’m sorry,” Runaan said quietly. “‘m a piece of shit, and I’m so sorry for makin’ you remember… what you remember.”

Ethari wrapped his other hand around the glass too, interrupting his self-abuse. _What I “remember.” Ironic._ “You’re not a piece of shit, Runaan. And I’m okay. I’m okay now. I promise. Drink your water.”

Runaan’s flat look told him that he didn’t believe Ethari, but he obediently drank half the glass. He set it down gently and turned it slowly with his fingers. After a small nod to himself, he looked up at Ethari through his lashes, waiting.

Ethari nibbled the inside of his lip. “Uh, okay. How did it start? The whole crash thing.”

Runaan looked down again. “With a kiss.”

The unexpected answer made Ethari twitch back in surprise. “You’re serious.”

The vodka grated in Runaan’s voice as he replied, “You’ve met me. I’m never anything else.” His gaze flickered to Ethari’s, and then he seized the nearby fridge handle for stability, facing away to gather his thoughts.

Ethari leaned a hip against the nearest counter and waited nervously, nibbling the inside of his cheek. He’d come to terms with his Shitty Saturday From Hell, as much as he could, but talking about it was still iffy. Runaan wasn’t in as good a spot as he was. Ethari would give him as much time as he needed.

Runaan faced the darkened window over Ethari’s little table and sighed heavily. He said over his shoulder, “Will Bonnenuit was my client. He’d been getting death threats for a role he played in a political film. But he had a press tour to promote it. So I traveled with him for a few months. Kept him safe. Morning of the hijacking, he got me off the tarmac and kissed me inside his private plane. I was… sleep-deprived, chronically. Didn’t say no. We, uh… I dunno how far it would’ve gone, but the hijackers stormed the jet the second they saw me follow him in.”

“Oh god, Runaan—” Ethari began, but he broke off as Runaan’s shoulders moved.

He seemed to be pressing his hands to his heart, but then he jerked one arm down and the asymmetrical zipper of his shirt sang open. He peeled his shirt off with shaky, urgent movements, wadded it up, and threw it against the base of Ethari’s oven door. Then he stood there with his bare back to Ethari, ponytail tousled past his waist, trembling with his hands knotted in fists.

Ethari pressed his fingers over his mouth at Runaan’s sudden gesture of vulnerability. He ached to hurry to him, to hold him, but he didn’t want to scare him. “Are you doing okay?” he asked softly. “Can I—”

“Ask me another,” Runaan interrupted. His voice was rough and his hands tightened into fists..

“Okay, um.” Ethari nibbled at his bottom lip, and his mind whirled. “How did you crash?”

“Five hostiles boarded, secured us and the crew as hostages, and told the pilot where to head.” Runaan’s voice slurred, but his sitrep delivery didn’t waver. “I took a beating for existing, and the pilot used that distraction to change course. When they found out, they killed him. Bullet went right through him and killed the console too. Co-pilot was good, but he couldn’t fly a brick. Died on impact. So did two of the hijackers.” Runaan stepped forward, leaned against the fridge for balance, and pulled off one low boot, and then the other. He dropped them on Ethari’s linoleum with soft thuds.

“Oh god,” Ethari breathed. His stomach churned. He couldn’t take his eyes off Runaan’s boots.

“Ask me again.”

Ethari gulped. He wasn’t ready to know everything. But Runaan was ready to speak. He had to be brave, in a very different way than he just had been when Runaan had been too pushy. “W-Why didn’t you escape right away? Were you hurt in the crash?”

“Not much. Will was scared. I told him I’d take care of things. That was my job. But they wanted Will to cry when he begged his studio to pay the ransom, so they shot me with a…” Runaan’s voice trailed off, and he pressed a hand over the scars Ethari couldn’t see. When he spoke again, his voice was soft with guilt. “It took me two days to find an opening and take them out.” He leaned against the fridge and tugged his socks free one by one. They fell from his fingertips, and he pushed himself upright again.

Belatedly, Ethari realized what Runaan was doing. He hadn’t gotten to take off these clothes for Ethari on their date night. So he was taking them off now, as he confessed, as he exposed his most vulnerable self—his most traumatized self—bit by bit. _Not the grapnels. The tentacles._ “Runaan…” he began. “What… god, it’s so hard to ask this. Please don’t feel like you have to tell me if you don’t want to. But if you still want more questions…?”

Runaan’s voice was stone. “Ask it.”

“What else did they do to you?” Ethari whispered.

Runaan stifled a sob, and his fists returned. “Fire, blades, boots, chemicals, psychological torture. Some homophobia, too, for good measure.” He paused as if done, but then his shoulders slumped and he tilted his head up. “It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was the worst thing I’d ever felt.” He eased his black jeans down over his hips and added, “Will would have anxiety attacks when they’d get me to break. So I couldn’t afford any tears. He didn’t know what to do, but I did. I kept their focus on me. That was the job. Protect the client. At any cost.” He dropped his jeans from his fingertips, and they slid down and puddled into a heap. He kicked them free, wobbling only once.

 _No, no, no, no, no!_ Ethari knotted his hands in his hair after two words of Runaan’s explanation, unwilling to interrupt, unsure how to, or even if he should. Runaan’s words stole his breath and put an acidic burn in his chest. He stood in an agony of sympathetic distress, just out of reach, and felt fresh, hot tears running down his cheeks. His eyes trailed down Runaan’s back and stopped at the waistband of his black underwear. Runaan was stripping down for him with every answer, and Ethari _hated_ it, _hated_ how this confessional was invading the sweet intimacy he craved.

“Runaan,” he murmured, “please, let’s stop. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

Runaan glanced down at himself. His shoulders slumped. “One more question.”

“I don’t want to ask anything else. Please.” Ethari stepped forward, reached out, and his hand hovered above Runaan’s shoulder. “Can I hold you now?”

Runaan’s voice was steel as he twitched his shoulder away. “One more question.”

Ethari buried his face in his hands and tried to catch his breath. _Okay, okay, different kind of question. I can’t take any more of this stuff right now._ He blew out a shaky breath. “How… how can I help you with this?”

Runaan stiffened, and his shoulders rose tensely. “That’s not the kind of—”

Ethari clenched his teeth. “ _No_. That’s my question.”

Runaan yanked his underwear down with an angry growl. His next step spun him back toward Ethari, accompanied by a furious, jabbing finger. Ethari’s eyes caught flashes of flushed skin, wounds, scars, tense muscles. He jerked his eyes up to Runaan’s just as his boyfriend yelled, “You _can’t_! _You_ can’t, _no_ one can! Don’t you get it? _I_ fucked up.” He slammed his fists against his bare chest. “This is all my fault. _I_ didn’t do the job, so _I_ had to pay the price. That’s not something that _needs fixing_. That’s just how it is. Karma, justice, balance, fate, whatever the fuck you wanna call it, there is no _helping_ , Ethari. I deserved what I got!”

Ethari’s insides tensed and twisted at such a horrible notion. “What? No you didn’t! No one deserves that, Runaan, what the fuck? Who told you that?” Ethari reached for his shoulders to steady him.

Runaan parried his hands away with an unsteady hand. “Don’t touch me when I’m yelling at you!”

Ethari tried again. “Don’t shove me when I’m trying to help you!”

Runaan swatted him away again. “I _didn’t fucking ask_!”

Ethari stepped forward, eyes blazing. “The fuck you didn’t! You didn’t have to tell me any of this. _I’m_ the one who didn’t ask! But you told me for a _reason_!”

Runaan’s eyes widened, and he glanced aside searchingly, as if he’d forgotten how he got there. His gaze landed on his discarded clothing, strewn across Ethari’s kitchen floor. He pressed a hand over a dark patch of skin Ethari had been careful not to stare at, but he didn’t seem to notice he was doing it. “Shit…”

“You said you were going to rip your heart out for me. Just… just be gentle with it, okay? Don’t throw it away. You don’t want to be alone anymore, Runaan,” Ethari offered more quietly.

Runaan glowered at him and reached back for his ponytail with his right hand. “You’re a p— _urp_ —piece of work, you know that?” His other hand came up to guard against a sudden stomach heave while his fingers yanked ineffectually at the slender band in his ponytail. “Soft. Don’t know when to quit. I can’t be your first hard case. This is your th— _urp_ —your _thing_ , isn’t it? Saving the _lost_. Well, you’ve never met anyone as lost as me—fucking god _dammit_!” Runaan’s fingers had been entirely unsuccessful in freeing his hair from its tie, and now his long white hair pulled lopsidedly through it and tangled in an angry knot.

A rush of clarity sent Ethari’s swirling fears tumbling away, and a cool weight of certainty settled in his gut. His teeth clenched, and he had to work to steady his breathing. “I see what you’re doing now. You’re not just balancing out my bad memories with yours. You think you’re protecting me. You’re trying to scare me away… before I can leave you on my own.”

Runaan left off trying to free his hair and let it dangle messily against the front of his shoulder. He let out a defeated sigh and went very still. “Is it working?” he whispered, his eyes on the floor.

Ethari took a minute to breathe and center himself again before he answered. “Maybe you are my kryptonite,” he said. “You may be buck-ass naked in my kitchen with your hair in a knot and that defeatist glare in your eyes, but I already told you I don’t abandon people. And I’m not going to change my mind about that just because we got hot and messy in all the wrong ways. Can I get you a—”

Runaan clapped his hands over his mouth and threw up a stomachful of vodka and water. It ran down his arms and splattered all over Ethari’s kitchen floor, soaking the near edges of Runaan’s discarded clothes.

The acid burn of the regurgitated alcohol infiltrated the room. The men stared at each other in shock.

“Oh g—” Runaan began, only to interrupt himself with an encore performance that bent him over, coughing and gasping as he threw up again. He looked up at Ethari in horrified embarrassment. “Ah, sh— _aah_!” His bare feet flew out from under him on the slippery linoleum floor, and Ethari jerked back instinctively to avoid his flying feet. The muscle memory gods were with Runaan, though. He landed perfectly on the back of his shoulders and rolled backward into a ready position with one knee up, right through the puddle of his own vomit.

Ethari stared down at his naked, unsteady, drunken boyfriend, with his tangled hair slicked and smeared with sick, and could only wonder in shock, _How the hell did he not break his neck??_

Runaan wobbled and put a hand down into the mess on the floor. He couldn’t even look up anymore. He froze, stunned, and his bottom lip began to tremble. He shook his head at himself and pressed the back of his other wrist against his mouth. The sound he let out was the saddest laugh Ethari had ever heard. It ached and creaked like long forgotten doors in a once loved house, an empty mockery of any real mirth it had once possessed. “Every time I think it can’t possibly get any worse,” he wheezed, as his laugh morphed into a keen of despair.

Ethari swallowed hard. _If I walk away now, I’ll be just like Zay. And that’s not happening, not ever._ He took a deep breath. “I’m still not comfortable watching you spill your guts in a drunken heap on my floor,” he said aloud, “so, as I was _saying_.” He dropped to one knee amid the mess on his floor and gently tilted Runaan’s chin until their eyes met. “Can I get you a nice warm shower?”

Runaan frowned at him, utterly uncomprehending. Through a jaw clenched with emotional agony and shivering cold, he whispered, “What?”

Ethari offered him a soft grin. “Come with me. I’ve got you.” He leaned forward and scooped him into his arms, bridal style, careful not to hurt his healing arm, yet completely uncaring about the smell or the mess that clung to him. It would keep. Runaan kicked his feet lightly in protest as his boyfriend stood up and bore him down the hall into his little utility room, but Ethari only said, “Here, can you pick up that blue shower stool for me? It’s got nonslip feet.” He bent forward, and Runaan obediently picked up the sturdy blue stool by its seat.

They headed back down the hall to the bathroom, and Ethari parked Runaan on the edge of his extra big tub. He set the stool in the tub, turned on the water, and let it pour from his nice high rain showerhead until it got nice and warm.

“I’m going to clean up the kitchen really quick, but I’ll be back in just a few minutes. Rinse off if you’re sure you won’t fall off the tub, and I’ll help you with the rest when I get back. Hear me?” Ethari tugged his newly reattached shower curtain halfway shut, until it brushed Runaan’s hip.

“Y-Yeah…” Runaan stared up at him, baffled.

Ethari smiled and pressed a warm hand atop Runaan’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated.

He headed back to the kitchen and yanked a dozen paper towels off the roll, mopping up the mess before it could seep around his floorboards. Then he chased a few baby wipes around the linoleum, silently apologized to his mom, and washed his hands. Next, he changed into swim trunks and tossed his clothes and Runaan’s into the utility sink to soak. When he headed back into the bathroom, Runaan still sat at the edge of the tub, but he’d rinsed off his arms and legs and worked the tangle mostly free of his ponytail.

Ethari settled a flutter in his tummy. _My boyfriend’s naked in my shower… How ‘bout that._ But he pushed the thought aside with a lopsided grin. _He also just threw up all over my kitchen. Super sexy._

Hoping to soften the mood, Ethari switched on half a dozen battery operated candles his mom had given him for Christmas and arranged them on the counter in a warm cluster of golden light. Runaan did a double take and shot him an uncertain look, but Ethari just shrugged and grinned before flicking off the overhead light. The room settled into an entirely different mood, hushed, private, soft. Hidden.

 _Okay_ , he told himself, _Don’t stare. At, uh, anything. Doesn’t matter what his scars look like. He’s still Runaan on the inside._ He took a deep breath and stepped past Runaan into the wide tub, leaving the curtain half open behind him so the candlelight could pour through. He paused to let the warm water soak his hair and sheet across his chest and back. Then he sat on the wide stool facing Runaan and held out a hand. He kept his eyes on Runaan’s and told his mind that it didn’t need to concern itself with the pale lines twisting across Runaan’s skin, or the dark patch that hovered out of focus, or his recent injuries, or the other little scars that marked his body… _God, he’s been through a lot._ He waited until his shoulders relaxed a little before he spoke. “Ready?”

Runaan studied Ethari’s hand and met his eyes again with a baffled expression. “For what?”

Ethari winked. “You can’t get clean if you don’t get in the water with me.”

Runaan’s eyes raked across Ethari’s bare chest and thighs. “Ethari, I’m covered in sick,” he protested.

Ethari grinned and reached up to his shower shelf, pulling down a bottle of body wash. “Soap is a thing that exists. You can’t possibly get so dirty that I can’t get you clean again.”

Runaan squinted at him in suspicion, but Ethari smiled winningly and waggled the body wash. Slowly, with doubt radiating from every bone in his body, Runaan reached out and took Ethari’s hand.

Ethari pulled him to his feet, but the warmth and the falling water seemed to disorient him. Runaan began to tilt toward the back of the tub. Ethari dropped his soap and dragged him into his lap for his own safety, holding him tight against his chest.

“Oof. Hi. Fancy meeting you here,” he murmured. Runaan was chilled from his emotional stripdown, and his skin shivered lightly as the warm water poured across his back and shoulder. Ethari smoothed his hands across his trembling boyfriend’s back and tipped him just a little to the side so the water could rinse out his hair.

“I’m such a mess,” Runaan breathed, near his ear. He tucked his face against Ethari’s neck.

“Yeah, you’re having a bad day. I can see that.”

“More than one. About three years now.” Runaan’s voice had gone toneless again.

“Do you know what liminal space is?” Ethari said gently, before Runaan could begin to spiral again. His hands kept smoothing and squeezing water through Runaan’s hair.

“Wh— Yeah. Kind of a place that doesn’t feel like a place. Like it’s not real somehow.”

“Yeah. So here’s the deal. As long as this shower is running, we can say anything we need to say. Maybe…” Ethari’s hands slowed for a moment, “…things we’ve never said out loud before, to anyone. And when we turn off the water, then it’s done, and everything we said goes down the drain. So we never have to talk about it ever again, if we don’t want to. We can forget everything and it doesn’t matter at all. Sound okay to you?”

Runaan straightened in his lap and looked down at him with soft confusion. “How do you keep knowing these mysteries of life?” he murmured.

“Eh, it’s not that mysterious, really,” Ethari said. “I just know that I lose a lot of great ideas to my morning showers, so it must be good for something, right?”

Runaan nodded silently, biting his lip.

“Let me get started on your hair.” Ethari wrapped an arm around Runaan’s waist and leaned toward the water again, and Runaan held onto his shoulders as the shower drenched his head. He tilted his chin up and let the cleansing streams filter through his hair like a waterfall through trailing vines, rinsing away the rest of the mess he’d gotten in it.

It was Ethari’s turn to bite his lip as the tendons in Runaan’s neck stood out. Water dripped and splashed across his cheeks and dropped to his chest, running across smooth planes of muscle in rivulets before vanishing out of sight. Runaan’s stunning beauty stole his breath away. That anyone could look at this man, so earnest and determined and dedicated, and think it was okay to just… _hurt_ him…

Ethari pulled Runaan back out of the drenching downpour and gazed up at him with a soft, aching expression. His hand settled just below the healing cut on Runaan’s arm. “How is it?”

“‘S okay. Janai said you did a good job.”

Ethari ducked his head and smiled at that. “Your nose doing okay?”

“Better already. Only hurts when I bump it.”

“I’ll try not to do that, then,” Ethari said with a smile. He reached for his shampoo.

Runaan brushed the pad of one thumb lightly across Ethari’s cheek and smiled. “Have you ever washed this much hair before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Ethari said. He cupped his hand underneath the bottle. “Just say when I’ve got enough.”

He squeezed about half as much as he expected to before Runaan tipped it up, stopping the flow. “Start with the bottom half.”

“Oh, is that how you do it?” Ethari started rubbing his hands together, making a bubbly mess.

Runaan leaned in and wrapped his arms around Ethari’s shoulders, bringing his wet hair close to hand. “It’s how I want you to do it.”

Ethari’s breathlessness returned in full force. “Okay.” He worked his hands through the bottom section of Runaan’s hair, spreading bubbly shampoo as he went.

“Mmmm. Feels good.” Runaan let out a heavy sigh and draped against Ethari for a few breaths, and Ethari quietly kept his hands moving. Finally, Runaan spoke again. “I like your shower. I want it to wash so much away, so it never comes back. I wish that was a thing.”

Ethari waited, smoothing bubbles along Runaan’s wet hair.

“I… I need you to know…” Runaan began haltingly. His bare arms tightened around Ethari’s shoulders. “How big a fucking idiot I am,” he finished in a rush. “I set a plan in motion for this job. And I used us as bait.”

“Us?” Ethari blurted.

Runaan hunched against him. “I’m so, so sorry. I… I didn’t understand what we were starting to have together. I thought I could manage it, use it, so… so it didn’t scare me, how much I…”

Ethari let his fingers rest lightly along the back of Runaan’s shoulders. “How much you what?” he murmured.

“How much I…” Runaan’s chest shuddered, and he pushed himself upright, meeting Ethari’s eyes as he perched in his lap. His bottom lip trembled through a shaky smile. “How much I keep needing you… How intensely I’m drawn to you. How much… how much I _love_ you,” he finished in a whisper.

Ethari gasped and smiled, feeling a warmth spring into bloom inside his chest. “Runaan…”

But Runaan pressed a finger against his lips. “Not yet. Lemme finish confessing. It gets worse. I figured, if the other side thinks I’m distracted because I’m in love with you, they’ll underestimate me, and I’ll have an edge. But if I fucked things up with you…” His gaze dropped and wandered. “…It would still work, because I’d be broken-hearted over losing you. It was win-win—if you can call that winning—and I _can_ , because I’m a fucking _idiot_ —so that made it too good to pass up. I used you. I’ve let my team see how distracting you are to me. I leave to watch over you, to take your calls, to… grab a snack.” A tipsy grin tugged at his lips. “If they believe it too, then there’s a better chance that intel will make it back to the other side. Do you see now, how horrible I am? How heartless? I took one look at you and decided to throw you under the bus for my mission’s sake. And it’s not over yet.”

Ethari rinsed Runaan’s hair and poured himself another palmful of shampoo while he thought that through. As he worked his hands through the upper half of Runaan’s hair, gathering it in messy, bubbly swoops, he said slowly, “No, that’s not quite right, is it? You didn’t use _me_. You used _yourself_. I wasn’t the bait. _You_ were.”

Runaan stared down at him with open-mouthed puzzlement while Ethari’s fingers dug gently into the bubbly fluff atop his head and massaged his scalp.

“Your heart is worth just as much as mine, Runaan,” Ethari murmured. “I know you haven’t used it in a while, for romantic things. I know it’s been hurt, and it hasn’t healed. And that’s okay, there’s time. But I know what my heart is worth to me. And I know how much I care about yours. It makes me sad to hear that you think your heart is only worth using as bait. And now I’m scared. Scared that I really will distract you, and you’ll get hurt. I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this mission?” he asked, raising a querying brow.

Runaan slowly shook his head in the negative, still studying Ethari’s soft reaction, unable to believe that he wasn’t somehow furious.

Ethari sighed and dipped Runaan’s shoulders toward the water, letting the shower wash away the bubbles in his hair. Runaan held onto Ethari’s shoulders and closed his eyes again trustingly, but his brows drew together in a tense frown. Ethari pulled him upright again and pressed a long, soft kiss against his jaw. “I just want you safe, hon,” he said against Runaan’s cheek. He reached for his bottle of conditioner and started working a palmful through Runaan’s hair. “Please, tell me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I’ve taken as many precautions as I can, for both of us.” Runaan held still, letting Ethari squeeze and finger-comb conditioner through his hair, silently enjoying his soft touch.

After Runaan’s hair was thoroughly treated, Ethari dipped him into the water again. His boyfriend’s long hair ran through his fingers as smooth and soft as silk, and Ethari bit his lip at the feel of its slick warm weight in his hands, lit from behind by the light of the candles. “Your hair is amazing, Runaan,” he murmured, entirely distracted. “I can’t get enough of it.”

Runaan sat up out of the shower’s stream and studied Ethari in the golden light. “Are you always this understanding, or is this the liminal water talking?”

Ethari wrapped his arms around Runaan and held him tight, burying his face against his boyfriend’s neck. _God, he’s so warm and strong. And still very naked._ His vision doubled, and he enjoyed an achingly fabulous image of Runaan in his lap that was steamier than the shower they were sharing. _Nngh, that’s not a good idea right now, not after Zay just wandered through here. I need to focus._ “It’s a little of both, I think. Can I ask you for a different answer to my last question in the kitchen?”

Runaan’s expression turned complex, and he shook his head slightly. “You can’t help me, Ethari. What’s done is done.”

Ethari pouted up at him. “Those are two different things, and only one of them is true.” He picked up the fallen body wash bottle and a round purple shower scrubby. As he drizzled a swirl of thick blue soap onto the scrubby, he said, “Why don’t you tell me why you don’t think I can help you, and I’ll, you know, _help you_ get clean while you do it.”

Runaan snorted. “You are so stubborn.”

Ethari rubbed the scrubby in light circles atop Runaan’s shoulder. “Right back atcha, hon. Say what you want me to hear.”

Runaan sat back and let his face fall into his hands. The shower danced lightly against his left thigh, but he remained as still as a statue. Ethari lightly soaped his arms, carefully avoiding the healing wound on his arm, and moved the scrubby around to his back with gentle, comforting circles, holding his long hair away from his skin with his other hand.

“I don’t deserve this. Any of it.” Runaan’s voice was muffled against his palms. “I fucked up. I failed. It doesn’t matter what I want. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah? What do you think you did that was so terrible you’ll never be worthy of love again?” Ethari tried to keep his tone light, but the very idea made him angry—at whom, he wasn’t sure.

“I…” Runaan’s shoulders hunched. “I didn’t stop him. Will. I froze up. And then I couldn’t stop any of the hijackers, either…” His body shuddered against Ethari’s and his breathing ramped up to near-crying. “The pilots died because of me. We crashed because of me. I got ripped apart because of me. It’s all _me_. Do you see? _I_ am what all those things have in common.”

Ethari paused his washing and held Runaan close with the soapy scrubby in one hand, while he cupped his cheek with the other. Runaan’s words rang in his ears, too familiar by half. “You said… you said you _didn’t_ stop him.”

Runaan dropped his hands, blinked, and pulled away. Ethari let him. A second later, though, he pushed his cheek back against Ethari’s hand and closed his eyes, savoring the soft contact. He nodded against Ethari’s palm amid the rush of the shower.

Ethari’s chest ached at the sight of Runaan’s shame. “But you _wanted_ to stop him. You didn’t want that kiss.”

“No. I…” Runaan’s eyes widened again. “I…” Suddenly, his face crumpled. “Oh god, I didn’t. I _didn’t_.” He let out a tortured groan of anguish as he tensed, hunching forward, hiding his face against Ethari’s neck.

Ethari immediately pulled him into a tight hug. “Runaan?”

Runaan clung to him, heaving for breath. “No, it’s… ah _god_ … no, I’m okay… it just never really sank in like that before. All these years, I… I thought maybe I _did_ want it. Deep down, secretly. Because he was famous, and handsome, and into me. That he flattered me, that I fell for it.”

Runaan was trembling, but his breathing was focused, not fearful. Like he was about to run into battle, not away from it. His fingers dug into Ethari’s bare back, and Ethari smoothed his across Runaan’s in return. “But?” Ethari prompted.

“But I didn’t. I still didn’t want that from him.” Runaan raised his head sharply and smiled, breathless and sharp and amazed. “I _didn’t want it_. Ethari. Holy _shit_.”

Ethari bit his lip and rubbed his sudsy scrubby against Runaan’s back encouragingly. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Runaan. It sounds super important.”

Runaan’s eyes darted back and forth, and he licked his lips, swiping at a stray water drop. “If I wanted that kiss, then… then I always figured that meant I also wanted everything that followed it. That I _wanted_ to fail at my job. That I _wanted_ him to jump me. That I _wanted_ the crash to happen. I thought life was telling me the things I want are _always bad_. That I was a terrible person for wanting things, ever. And then, I met you, and you were so perfect and soft and adorable, and I wanted you too… but then… then I assumed that must be bad too, somehow, even if I couldn’t see it yet. Because it was _me_ who wanted you. Because I’d _make_ it bad, if it wasn’t already…”

“No, baby, no,” Ethari murmured, drawing him down for a tight hug. “You haven’t made anything bad.” He felt Runaan squeeze him back and swallow hard before he sat up again.

“Ethari…” Runaan brows lifted, and the most amazed look came over his face. He found his boyfriend’s gaze again, and his hands gently held Ethari’s cheeks.

Ethari cupped his face with his free hand, heart pounding, caught up in Runaan’s epiphany. He mirrored his boyfriend’s expression. “Runaan, what is it?”

Runaan pressed his hand atop Ethari’s and closed his eyes. His voice was a hoarse prayer beneath the merry spray of the water. “Ethari, if I didn’t want it… if I _haven’t_ made anything bad… does this mean I’m… not… terrible…?” His bottom lip trembled, and his whole body shivered.

Ethari bit his own lip hard and felt tears spring to his eyes. He pulled Runaan closer with urgent hands and pressed their foreheads together. “ _Yes_. Yes, that’s _exactly_ what it means.”

Runaan let out an ecstatic bark of laughter, gasped for breath, and burst into tears. He wrapped himself around Ethari and cried hard. Ethari squeezed him as firmly as he dared, hoping he didn’t pop Runaan’s prosthetic rib loose with the force of his hug. His hands dug into Runaan’s long waterfall of hair and squeezed it, too. His heart soared, and he murmured soft reassurances against Runaan’s ear, feeling tears trail down his cheeks before being lost in the rush of the water around them.

After a minute, Runaan relaxed and pulled back, panting. “Fuck,” he mumbled, swiping at his nose, “I can’t believe I ever lived before I knew you. I feel like… I have no idea what I feel like. I’m gonna have to think about this, a lot.”

Ethari grinned. “Good. Now you’re starting to see yourself the way I see you, and I’m not stopping until you agree that I’m right and you’re amazing.”

Runaan’s eyes filled again. “Listen, please, I am _so_ sorry for my behavior tonight. God, I can’t… I make myself sick. I thought… Oh my god, Ethari. I’m—”

Ethari caught Runaan’s chin and steadied his gaze. “No, go back. Tell me what you thought. I need to hear that part.” He took a calming breath and added, “And then we’ll let it run down the drain with everything else. Why were you like that? You said that you used to be good with boundaries. This wasn’t that.”

Runaan closed his eyes amid a pained expression. But he forced them open again, locking his gaze onto Ethari’s. “I… My mission took a turn. I’m being watched. And I needed to prove that you were distracting me. I barely remember who I was before the crash. So I… used the one thing I could remember. Will.” Ashamed again, he tried to turn his head away, but Ethari held him firmly.

Ethari’s jaw bunched. “You thought that would work on me?”

Runaan’s head twitched in the negative. “Whether you let me stay or kicked me out for being an asshole, I’d still be distracted.”

Ethari struggled with some true anger for a hot minute. But that was nothing new. He told his first reaction to take a trip down the drain and thought his way through his tangled emotions. “That didn’t make me feel good, Runaan, what you did. Is that… is that what Will did to you?”

Runaan let an angsty growl through his teeth. “The kiss part, yeah.”

Ethari’s eyes widened as he flashed through the tumult of emotions Runaan had subjected him to earlier. To distract them both, he gently swooped the scrubby across Runaan’s lovely, defined collarbones, leaving a thick bubbly trail. “Okay… okay, listen to me. If what you did to me is how you thought Will would’ve treated you, then you’re absolutely right: you didn’t want it. You’d have done what I did, if you’d had the chance. You’d have stopped him. And if I ever get the chance, Will Bonnenuit’s gonna get my opinion on his shitty behavior, right in his pretty face.”

Runaan’s eyes widened. “Ethari…”

Ethari’s dark brows lowered. “No, I get it now. You’ve known all along, on some level, that what he did was wrong, so when you mimicked him, you _hoped_ I’d chuck you out. It would prove that you were right. It would also hurt me enough to prove you were a bad person. And if I kicked you to the curb, that would protect me, wouldn’t it? From you, and from your mission. You thought that going it alone was the only way to get everything you wanted.” He swooped the scrubby lower across Runaan’s chest, holding his breath, hoping this was working.

Runaan nodded mutely, unable to meet his eyes.

 _My god, this guy is complicated. But I’m gonna let that go, all of it, right down the drain_. “Okay,” Ethari said aloud.

Runaan’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Okay?”

“Okay. It’s okay,” Ethari said, keeping his voice soothing. “Because you were wrong. You were wrong about being a bad person. You were wrong when you thought hurting me was the best way to help me. And you’re wrong about going it alone being the only way to get what you want. People aren’t meant to be alone, Runaan. And you’re a person. You have friends, you have a team. And now, you have me. You were wrong about me chucking you out, too. I don’t want to share you with Will Bonnenuit—or even his memory—so I’m going to help you get away from him. Because fuck that guy.” He offered Runaan a fierce smile, and their gaze held for a long moment.

Runaan shook his head and smiled. “How? For the love of god, Ethari, _how_ do you keep making things seem so easy?” he begged softly.

“I keep telling you, Runaan. It’s not easy. It’s just… I had it hard once, and I learned a few things. I’ve got my scars, just like you do.” Ethari bit his lip and swooped the body wash scrubby lower still, easing it across Runaan’s abdomen.

Runaan glanced down at Ethari’s hand as it slid across his wet skin. His lips parted, and his breathing shallowed. He scooted back a few inches and wrapped his arms around Ethari’s neck, leaning into an arch to give him better access in a mirror of their position in the eyeglass shop bathroom.

Ethari pressed his cheek against Runaan’s and held it there. His free hand slid around to his boyfriend’s back to steady him and read his reactions. He moved the bubbly scrubby over Runaan’s scars, ever so gently, trying to treat them as just another part of Runaan to be washed clean.

Runaan twitched, turning his head, but then he tilted it back against Ethari’s, craving firm contact.

Ethari’s heart was in his throat as he let the scrubby fall from his hand. With infinite care, he touched Runaan’s side with two fingertips, then three, then four. Runaan’s fingers found Ethari’s hair and tightened in it, but otherwise he held perfectly still, tense, waiting, his breathing swift and shallow.

“Is this okay?” Ethari murmured.

Runaan leaned into his fingertips ever so slightly, nodding. His fingers flexed in Ethari’s wet hair.

“Okay.” Ethari took a deep breath and let it out slowly before letting the full length of his fingers rest against Runaan’s warm, soapy skin. Rough scars made raised ridges against them. He let his hand move down Runaan’s side as his palm made contact too, turning his exploration into a caress. A heavy pucker of rough skin passed under his hand, edged unevenly, as if Runaan’s body carried a dent from a car accident. He briefly wondered what the hijackers had shot Runaan with, to leave such a large scar.

Runaan’s hands tightened further, and a soft whimper escaped him.

Ethari ran both his hands around to Runaan’s back. “Easy now. I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“You haven’t even looked,” Runaan said through his teeth. “How can you not look?”

Ethari chuckled softly. “You’re hot and you’re naked and you’re sitting on my lap soaking wet. There’s kind of a lot to distract me right now.”

Runaan’s eyes flew open and fixed on Ethari’s mouth. “Rinse me off. And look. I want you to see me now, Ethari. All of me.”

Ethari grinned and dipped Runaan to the side until the shower ran across his chest, rinsing away the soapy body wash. His boyfriend closed his eyes and tipped his face into the stream, opening his mouth and letting it fill.

“Well, damn,” Ethari said, chuckling.

Runaan chuckled, accidentally spitting the water out. “You don’t want to kiss me yet,” he said. “I taste terrible.” Then he tipped his head back and filled his mouth again.

While his boyfriend’s eyes were closed in the water, Ethari bit his lip and took a peek at Runaan’s side. He’d been prepared for the rough texture of the scarring, and the darker patch on Runaan’s skin had been hovering at the edge of his vision for twenty minutes now, but he hadn’t quite anticipated its _colors_. Red streaks in various shades all the way to black mixed with a smattering of bluish white. Several layers of surgical scars cut across the others near his ribs, straight and pale except for the most recent set which still blazed an angry pink. Around them all, pale slender scars crawled across his abdomen, up to his chest, and around his side—the lines Runaan had used Ethari’s finger to trace that day in the shop.

In a sudden cool moment of clarity, Ethari understood why Runaan collected kintsukuroi. He felt broken, shattered, his scars striping across him, forever damaging him, and he hadn’t yet found the gold that could mend him. The artistically mended porcelain bowls in the display case in his bedroom were a dream yet unrealized. Ethari’s heart panged.

Runaan spat out another mouthful and flexed up out of the water, and Ethari pulled him upright onto his lap again. His hand settled against Runaan’s scars as if protecting them, but Runaan didn’t stop moving. He pushed Ethari’s shoulders back until they met the cool shower tiles behind him. Both men braced their feet against the far side of the tub—Ethari for balance and support, and Runaan for leverage. Then he took Ethari’s wrists and pinned them against the wall over his head. He held them in one hand, and braced himself with his other, looming over him.

Water gleamed along his cheekbones and glinted from his lashes, making him appear as an otherworldly water nymph. It sheeted and bounced off his shoulder, drizzling warm against Ethari’s chest. He ground his hips against Ethari’s with an open-mouthed groan, and Ethari could actually see his pupils spin wide with desire. He nearly got whiplash, he revisited his earlier lap-riding vision so quickly.

“H-Holy _shit_ , Runaan…” he began breathlessly.

“ _Nnhh_ , no…” Runaan steadied his feet against the tub’s bottom and let Ethari’s wrists go. He looked down at him sadly. “Not like this. This is always what happens.” He pressed his forehead against Ethari’s apologetically and let him go, straightening up. “I do want you, Ethari, but… I’m not steady enough yet… I’m not… not really ready… just a horny fuckup…”

Those glorious turquoise eyes shut, and Runaan looked aside, trying to hide his hurt.

Ethari looked down again, but not at Runaan’s scars. The man on his lap was indeed horny, his arousal fully hard. He gulped and licked his lips, feeling the fabric of his swim trunks tighten over his own excitement. _Okay, Ethari, you can do this. Just take it slow._

“Runaan, it’s okay if you’re not ready. I didn’t pull you into my shower so I could get laid. I just wanted to help you, and you happened to be naked at the time.”

“I know you did.” Runaan managed a soft snort. “Gotta say, though, I’ve seen some crap porn with more believable setups.”

“Says the guy with the cameras installed everywhere,” Ethari sassed.

Runaan’s eyes widened suddenly, as if he’d been caught out.

Ethari’s brows shot up. “Something else you want to tell me while we’re here in the liminal shower?”

“I deleted it,” Runaan blurted.

“Wh-What? Deleted _what_?”

“Security footage. I just wanted to make sure you were okay the next morning,” Runaan said quickly. “I didn’t know you’d be…”

“Be what?”

Runaan’s eyes trailed down Ethari’s chest, and his hips flexed a little before he could stop himself. “Such an entertaining dancer.” He bit the inside of his lip, but it didn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “You were really cute.”

“Oh god, you saw me playing my croissant air guitar.” Ethari dissolved into chuckles and buried his face against Runaan’s chest. “I can’t believe Amaya doesn’t die laughing every time I see her. I’ve never jumped so fast in my whole life!”

“It was impressive,” Runaan allowed.

Ethari shook his head with an embarrassed grin. “Thanks, I guess. And thanks for, uh, deleting that. You didn’t even have to tell me it existed. But, thanks.”

Runaan’s eyes glowed above a soft smile. The candlelight behind him sparked his wet hair with a liminal halo. “You’re welcome.”

Ethari’s tummy fluttered hard. He leaned forward and left a soft kiss on Runaan’s collarbone. “Listen, I haven’t been where you are, Runaan. but I know what it feels like to get better. To come out of the darkness and see the light. And I want that for you. I want it for us both.”

Runaan’s fingertips ghosted across Ethari’s cheek. The look in his eyes was otherworldly, and a fae smile danced across his lips. “I want to see the light. Can you help me pick the right frames?”

 _Maybe… maybe I can do this after all. I want to try. God, I want this. Let my love be an act of courage._ He gave Runaan a crooked grin. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Runaan pressed his forehead against Ethari’s again. His fingers danced along Ethari’s jaw, his ears, his neck. “I do. Haven’t been able to see it clearly before. But I need you. I need you, Ethari, and I’m never keeping you in the dark again.”

Ethari’s gaze dropped to Runaan’s mouth, and that was all it took.

Their lips sealed together in a hot rush. Ethari pulled Runaan’s chest flush against his own, desperate for the feel of his heated skin against him. Runaan let out a broken, needy cry and leaned into Ethari, pushing his shoulders back against the tiles again. Ethari got one foot up against the far edge of the tub so they didn’t topple right off the stool. His hands hungrily roamed Runaan’s slick skin, finding bullet scars and ridges of muscle and seductively strong curves. “God, you’re so beautiful, Runaan,” he blurted between kisses.

“Please,” Runaan begged against his mouth, “I don’t know how to do this anymore. I just want you. What do you want me to do, Ethari? Tell me.”

Ethari slicked Runaan’s hair back off his face and steadied it in careful hands. His flushed cheeks made his eyes and his nose stripes appear even bluer in the low light. The men huffed and puffed in sync. “You saying you’re in need of a service top, Runaan?”

The tiny, delighted smile that lit up Runaan’s face sent Ethari’s heart racing.

“Okay. Okay. Gimme just a second, I wanna get this right.” His breathless excitement made Runaan chuckle and bite his lip.

“There you go again,” Runaan murmured. “Making me feel special.”

Ethari grinned brilliantly at him. “You _are_ special.” With tender care, he sat back up, tilting Runaan with him. He leaned in and pressed a long kiss against his boyfriend’s chest, encircling him with his arms, tracing gentle lines along his back, reveling in the feel of this beautiful man in his arms. After everything they’d just shared, Ethari had never felt closer to another person in his life. Runaan’s breakthroughs had felt as real to him as his own, and he never wanted Runaan to forget how sweet and magical it felt to love yourself.

He kissed the underside of Runaan’s jaw and murmured, “I know what you need. We’ll start slow.”

Runaan had begun trembling. “M-Maybe I don’t want slow…”

Ethari ran a soft thumb across his cheek and winked. “We’ll start slow anyway. Come on. Can you stand?”

Runaan flushed, remembering how many times he’d already fallen. “I… might need a little help.”

“Perfect. Help is my middle name.” Ethari put his hands on Runaan’s hips and steadied him as he stood, then he set the stool outside the tub. He leaned back against the shower wall amid the warm spray and pulled Runaan against him for another kiss, letting his hands roam down his back, over his bare ass, and back up his sides, lightly dancing across his scars as if they weren’t even there.

Runaan leaned into him as if his life depended on it, letting small whimpers escape their kiss as he pressed his bare chest against Ethari’s. “God, please… _mmmff_ …”

Ethari chuckled and surged away from the wall, pushing their kiss into the center of the shower’s water. Runaan’s hair got soaked and ran across his shoulders like liquid moonlight, tangling softly around Ethari’s fingers, heavy and warm. Ethari filled his hands with it and gently tugged Runaan back against the wall with him.

“Now that I have you all hot and wet,” he began teasingly, “here’s what I want to do for you. I know it’s been a long time for you. You’ve probably been taking care of things by yourself, yeah?”

Runaan nodded, his eyes deep pools of quiet uncertainty, but willing to follow where Ethari led.

“So I want you to show me where you’re at right now.”

“I’m… in your shower,” Runaan blurted, sending Ethari into giggles.

“And I’m ecstatic about that, you have _no_ idea,” he said. “What I mean is…” He took Runaan by the shoulders, turned him around, and pulled him flush against his body. The candlelight danced along his body, lighting his skin softly and gleaming amid the drops that clung to him. Ethari propped one foot against the tub and snugged an arm around Runaan’s waist, letting him feel the pressure of Ethari’s own arousal through his swim trunks. Runaan gasped softly and nestled against him. Ethari’s free hand slid around the shadowed curve of Runaan’s hip and softly dipped under his hard length, supporting its hot weight in a gentle palm. “…I want to lend you a helping hand.”

“Oh my _god_ —” Runaan blurted breathlessly.

“But,” Ethari added, nudging a kiss against Runaan’s jaw, “I want _you_ to use it.”

“W-What?”

“Grab my shampoo,” Ethari said.

When Runaan leaned to the side to reach for it, though, Ethari snickered and clasped his hips, refusing to let him lean far enough to grasp the bottle. Runaan’s fingertips flailed just short of the shampoo bottle, and he made the cutest little growling noises as he tried to stretch just a little further without his ass moving away from Ethari’s hips. Finally, he reluctantly pulled away and snatched the shampoo, and Ethari promptly tugged him back into place.

Runaan let out a sharp gasp as their bodies made contact again. Ethari left sweet kisses atop his shoulder and bucked slowly against him, letting his fingers slide lightly along Runaan’s shaft. “Welcome back. You were gone way too long.”

“ _Nnngh_. Sh-shampoo,” Runaan stuttered.

“Good job. Here, put some in my hand.” He held out his hand accepted a thick swirl of deep green gel on his palm. “Now this next part is really important, so I hope you’re paying attention.”

Runaan’s eyes were glued to Ethari’s palm. “I’ve never been so intent in my _life_.”

Ethari rested his forehead above Runaan’s ear and murmured, “Good. Now, tell me No.”

Runaan blinked and turned his head toward Ethari, as if unsure he’d heard right. “What?”

“Tell me No, Runaan.”

Runaan’s breathing sped up. “I… don’t want to.”

Ethari pressed a soft kiss against his cheekbone. “I know. But I need you to know that I’ll stop if you tell me to. So, tell me No.”

Runaan’s chest heaved faster for several breaths. He pressed a wet hand against his mouth, fingers splayed across his cheek, and let out a vulnerable sound. Ethari ran his other hand softly along Runaan’s side and waited. Finally, Runaan nodded. “No,” he said. “No.”

Ethari wordlessly held his hand out under the shower’s stream and let the shampoo bubble away. Then he offered his empty hand back to Runaan. He kissed him just in front of his ear and murmured, “Okay. Now take my hand and do what _you_ want to do with it.”

Runaan took it as if it were an unlooked for prize, studying it with thoughtful care. “What I want? _Mmnnhh_ , god, Ethari…” To Ethari’s surprise, Runaan brought it to his mouth. He dragged his tongue slowly across Ethari’s palm and slurped two of his fingers into his mouth, slicking them.

Ethari’s eyes bulged, and his fingers instinctively tightened around Runaan’s hip. “Holy _god_ …”

Runaan released them by opening wide and letting his head fall back onto Ethari’s shoulder. He propped a foot beside his boyfriend’s on the tub’s edge and dragged Ethari’s hand down over the edge of his chin and along his throat. When he guided it to his right pec and squeezed, Ethari leaned into him from behind and did the same, muffling a curse in Runaan’s sopping wet hair as he dug his fingers into Runaan’s taut muscle.

A breathless gasp escaped Runaan’s lips in response, and he guided Ethari’s hand down across his abs.

“Jesus god, there’s a lot of you,” Ethari whispered.

Runaan’s chuckle shook against Ethari’s chest, and he grinned shyly. “I’ll remember you said that.” He slid their hands along his full length, of which where was indeed a lot. Then he drew a big swirl of shampoo on Ethari’s palm again and gave the bottle a flip, landing it perfectly on the far edge of the tub.

As he settled Ethari’s hand firmly around the base of his shaft, Ethari murmured in his ear, “Tilt your head back again. You show me how you like it, and I’ll talk you through it.”

Runaan tucked his right hand behind Ethari’s neck and obediently nestled his head atop Ethari’s shoulder again. His slick hair tumbled down Ethari’s chest, warm and heavy. Ethari firmed his grip, eliciting a smiling gasp from his boyfriend’s lips. “Talk me through it, huh?” Runaan murmured.

“Mmhmm.” Ethari kissed his cheek softly. “We’re doing this one together.”

Runaan gulped loudly, and Ethari bit his lip at the sight of that long, exposed throat spasming. “Fucking Christ, Runaan.” He slid his other hand possessively across Runaan’s chest and buried his face against his hair, holding him as close as he could while leaving his right hand in Runaan’s control.

“Such profanities,” Runaan breathed.

“You want me to watch my mouth?” Ethari murmured.

Runaan’s eyes fluttered shut and he licked his lips. His breathing shuddered light and swift. “I want you to take me to church.”

His hand began to move Ethari’s. A soft groan slipped through his teeth, and his body tensed like a bow being drawn.

Ethari slid his other hand up and caressed Runaan’s throat from collarbone to jaw and back down, feeling the straining muscles in his neck. This man in his arms was so beautiful, so intense. He needed Runaan to hear, to trust, how precious he was to him. “You’ve confessed a lot of things to me tonight, hon,” he said against his ear.

Runaan hummed a throaty agreement as his hand pumped Ethari’s slowly.

“You let me see your soul,” he added, sticking with the impromptu theme. “And you know what?”

“ _Hmff_?” Runaan gasped, panting.

“It’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful. I’ll take you to church, but you’ve got no sins to confess, to me or to anyone else.”

Runaan arched against him and moaned, and his fingers dug into the back of Ethari’s neck. Their hands sped up around Runaan’s length. “The things you say, Ethari… That fucking pretty mouth…”

Ethari chuckled and nipped at his ear, teasing it between his teeth. “I want to hear from _your_ fucking pretty mouth, Runaan. Will you be loud for me?”

“I-I can try… I’m usually not very—”

Ethari squeezed him tighter on a downstroke. Runaan’s whole body twitched, and a sharp “ _ah_ ” left his mouth like a rocket.

Ethari’s fingers fluttered around Runaan’s throat as if feeding off his voice. “Mmmm, you’re doing so good, baby. Your pleasure sounds amazing to me.”

“I— _ahhgod_ —I’ll do my— _f-fuck_ , you feel good around me.”

Ethari pressed a hard kiss against Runaan’s ear and held it there. “You deserve this, Runaan. You deserve it. You’re beautiful, you’re glorious, you’re sweet and gentle, every word you say is kind and thoughtful, and I wake up smiling because you blow my mind—”

“ _Hhnnn_ , Ethari, w-what… n-no…” Runaan’s hand slowed around his.

Achingly, Ethari eased his grip, letting Runaan hold the weight of his hand. He buried his face against Runaan’s hair again. “You want to stop?”

Runaan’s hand trembled around his. “ _Nnnhh_ …”

“It’s okay if y— _mmmff!_ ”

Runaan caught his mouth in a sudden, fierce kiss. “No,” he breathed, against Ethari’s lips. His hand tightened around Ethari’s, and Ethari firmed his grip again. “I don’t want to stop.”

Ethari’s grin was ecstatic. “Then you’re gonna take these words from me, because they’re true, okay? You hear me, now: you are beautiful, and you are precious. Say it, you say it out loud to me.”

“N— I…”

Ethari’s hand surged across Runaan’s chest, and he checked him lightly against him with a firm tug, shaking him out of his doubts. “Say it to me, honey, tell me you’re beautiful, and stroke yourself with my hand while you do it.”

Runaan’s hand spasmed, and he gasped lightly, but he found his rhythm again. Softly, hesitantly, he said, “I… _ahgod_ … I’m… beautiful…”

“ _God_ , you really are,” Ethari praised him, letting a hungry growl into his voice. “You haven’t had it easy, but you did your best anyway. And now I’m going to take care of every inch of you.”

“ _Nnnhh_ , f-fuck…” Runaan’s voice climbed higher with breathy need.

“Tell me what you want, Runaan, say it to me.”

“God, _nnnghh_ … I want it _harder_ …”

“Hot? Messy?” Ethari growled against his ear.

Runaan’s hips bucked, and his back arched hard. “Fucking _god_ , yes!”

Ethari tightened his grip until Runaan arched and moaned wildly, writhing against him and knotting his fingers in Ethari’s wet hair. He tipped Runaan’s jaw up, pinning his head lightly against his shoulder as he bucked and squirmed, pouring a constant stream of soft praise into Runaan’s ear. “God, that’s so good, Runaan, your voice is amazing, you make me so happy when you tell me what you want. Keep going, let it all out, it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you, baby.”

“ _Nnhhh_ , fuck, Ethari, I w-want—I want— _god_ , holy shit, I’m… _Ethari_ …”

Ethari held Runaan even more tightly against him and felt his body flex and strain like a steel rod. “Runaan, _Runaan_ …”

“ _Ethari_ … I-I…a- _aah_ —” Runaan’s taut poise snapped, and he spasmed hard in ecstasy, spilling over Ethari’s knuckles. Soft, mindless cries rose from his throat, lost between laughter and tears, ringing with pleasure, insistent, undeniable. His body slumped, hot and desperate and gasping, against Ethari’s chest, and Ethari caught him and held him tight as he rode the high of his release.

It was _beautiful_.

Ethari buried his face against Runaan’s wet hair and felt tears of amazement stinging his eyes. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmured. But he wasn’t sure anymore who had whom. He slipped his hand into the water for a moment and then held Runaan softly against him with both arms. “You did so good, baby, you were perfect. Holy shit, that was _amazing_.”

Runaan gasped and heaved against him like he’d run a marathon. “Ah, god, set me down. D-Dizzy…”

Ethari eased them both down to their knees, and Runaan faced the shower’s patient stream. He tipped his face up, half lit by candlelight, letting the full force of the water drench him. It pelted off his cheeks and the stripes across his nose, sheeted down his chest, and ribboned his long, thick hair down his skin in white rivulets. His smile was seraphic.

That smile shot Ethari through the heart, it was so pure and beatific. He leaned into the water too, letting the water baptize him as well. With gentle hands, he cupped Runaan’s face, and he kissed him with reverent adoration.

Runaan held his hips and kissed him back, tasting him amidst the water, softly, slowly, a delicate coda to the ecstatic passion Ethari had just bestowed. He leaned his forehead against Ethari’s and murmured through a grin, “And all the people said, Amen.”

Ethari’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You sure about that? It sounded more like WooHoo to me.”

Runaan cracked one brilliant turquoise eye open despite the turbulent rain around them and shot Ethari a suspicious grin. “Did you just profane Our Lord of the Divine Release with a _Sims_ reference?”

Ethari couldn’t have held in his sudden cackle if he’d tried. He leaned onto the edge of the tub and wheezed. “Our Lord of the…? Runaan, oh my _god_. How did I ever think _you_ were the straight man? You’re way funnier than I am.”

Runaan eased up onto the tub’s edge and winked while he wrung out his hair with a series of twists. “Getting a good kill—even with wordplay—takes patience. But I must apologize if you ever thought for a single moment that I’m _straight_.”

Ethari blinked up at him and scooted out from under the shower’s downpour. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

Runaan nodded contentedly. “Like a rake in the yard.”

Ethari winced. “Yeah, that’s fair. Listen, let me get you a towel, and we’ll find you something to eat—”

“Wait,” Runaan interrupted, wearing a look of concern. His gaze dropped to the tightness in Ethari’s swim trunks.

Ethari’s vision doubled. Runaan’s hands around him, his mouth, stumbling back to the bedroom together... But his desire fluttered, like rows of laundry blowing in a warm breeze, and amid the rippling sheets a still figure waited. A figure untroubled by the wind around him. “No, I’m good,” he murmured.

Runaan reached out and tilted his chin up. His white brows drew together. “What is it?”

Ethari shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. Sex is easy for me. Maybe too easy. I’ve used it to patch the holes in a sinking ship when I should’ve hopped in the lifeboat instead. All that did was take me longer to drown. I see you, Runaan, what you’ve been through, and what you need. And I loved every minute of giving it to you. But I’m also seeing myself tonight, from the outside, maybe for the first time. I feel like I’m doing for you what no one ever did for me—what I had to figure out how to do for myself. But I don’t want to mess that up by doing what _I_ always do. I… I just need to stand still for a little while. Let these winds of passion blow around me until I know my own shape.”

“That’s deep.” A low note wove itself into Runaan’s voice. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s been that kind of night.”

“Maybe later.” Ethari draped an arm over Runaan’s thigh and leaned against his warmth. “I don’t want either of us making the same old mistakes. You’re figuring out how to believe that you’re amazing and fabulous and precious and beautiful. You needed that release, and you deserved it.” Ethari slicked his hair back and sighed. “But we need different things tonight. Only one of us at a time should be needy and unbalanced about sex. Tonight, it was you, so it can’t be me. Don’t worry, I’ll be just fine. It’s genuinely doing me good to look after you,” he finished with a wink.

“You’re sure?” Runaan’s tone was still doubtful.

Ethari looked up at him sunnily, his face lit in the candles’ glow. “I told you we’d take it slow. But if I change my mind tonight, you’ll be the _very_ first to know.”

Runaan grinned at that. “Not the same old mistakes, huh? So… you want to make brand new mistakes?”

“With you? Absolutely.” Ethari stood up, took Runaan’s hand and pulled him to his feet, offering him one last kiss before he shut off their liminal shower.

***

Runaan and Ethari took several minutes to dry off because Runaan, in his blissful and buzzed state, couldn’t help stopping to kiss Ethari somewhere on his soft, warm skin every few seconds—his shoulder, his palm, his ear, his collarbone—and every time he did, Ethari made such sweet sounds that they had to kiss properly for a while.

The second time that Runaan pulled Ethari’s wet chest against his own, pinning himself to the wall and getting damp all over again, Ethari laughingly took his towel away and commandeered drying Runaan off. Runaan trembled under his soft ministrations, still unable to believe that Ethari barely seemed to notice his scars.

They wrapped themselves in a pair of towels and captured Runaan’s long hair in another one, and Ethari scooped him up into his arms once more and headed to his bedroom to find him something to sleep in.

“I really can walk,” Runaan protested, even as his lips nuzzled Ethari’s neck.

“I’m way too soft to allow that to happen,” Ethari responded smilingly.

He set Runaan on the end of his bed, and while Ethari raided his dresser drawers, Runaan flopped onto the blankets with a groan of utter relaxation. One hand fumbled for Ethari’s pillow and dragged it into his arms, where he held it tightly and inhaled its delicious scent.

Ethari tossed him a pair of black biking shorts and pulled on some soft purple jammy shorts for himself. While Runaan tugged them on, enjoying the way the spandex seemed to hug him and hold him together, Ethari fetched a fuzzy blue throw blanket from his front room. He returned and tucked it around Runaan where he lay. “There you go, soft and warm.”

Runaan lay snugly curled around Ethari’s pillow with his hair in a damp swirl across the blankets while his boyfriend returned all the towels to the bathroom. Ethari came back in a couple of minutes with a wide-toothed comb, the etched gay lovers glass full of water, a pair of chopsticks, and a bowl of apple slices and honeyed walnuts. He set the bowl within Runaan’s reach and sat next to Runaan, who started to sit up.

“No, don’t get up,” Ethari said. “I can start combing it from here.”

“ _Hnnnn_ ,” Runaan sighed. He lay on his side, snuggling Ethari’s pillow, breathing his scent, and let Ethari gently work his comb through the tips of his hair. He was so relaxed and content that he nearly drifted off—

Ethari’s hands paused in his hair, drawing him back to full wakefulness, and then a gleaming walnut half hovered near his nose, held in Ethari’s chopsticks. “You’re not eating. Here.”

Runaan’s brows lifted in surprise, but he opened up and let Ethari feed him the sweet bite, and then a chunk of honeycrisp apple. The taste and texture combination made him hum in deep appreciation.

Ethari chuckled softly and made sure to pause his gentle combing several more times to feed Runaan more apples and nuts.

“You’re treating me like a king here,” Runaan murmured muzzily.

“Oh good, you noticed. I thought I was being too subtle. You thirsty?”

Runaan was suddenly parched. He rolled into a kneeling position, losing the blanket off one of his shoulders. Steadying himself against Ethari, he straddled his boyfriend’s lap and took the glass that he offered, guzzling it whole without stopping for breath. “You could say that,” he replied, panting.

Ethari snaked one arm around Runaan’s waist, snugging him closer with an appreciative hum. With his other hand, he traded the comb for the chopsticks. He managed to trap a walnut half against a piece of apple and offered it lightly, resting the corner of the sweet fruit against Runaan’s bottom lip.

Runaan smiled as he opened up and let Ethari feed him again, keeping his eyes on Ethari’s. “Mmm,” he commented lightly. “Delicious. You should try it.”

Ethari smirked and tilted his chin up, dropping his eyes to Runaan’s lips. “Okay.”

With a soft chuckle, Runaan gave him a gentle kiss. Their tongues slipped together, and he let Ethari savor the sweetness of his lips. Ethari hummed enthusiastically in response to the delicious combination of fruit, honey, nut, and his boyfriend’s mouth. His arm slipped inside the loose blanket and tightened around Runaan’s waist, arching his back, and Runaan slowly rocked against him. Their kiss drew out, but it remained slow and sensual, dreamlike.

Then Ethari’s hands were back in his hair again, drawing the comb through its damp locks even as they kissed. Runaan hummed throatily, reveling in Ethari’s soft sweetness. The flavor on his tongue, Ethari’s warmth between his thighs, his gentle fingers easing through his hair… Runaan might as well have been floating, he felt so blissful.

As Ethari’s comb worked higher, Runaan broke the kiss and snuggled his face against Ethari’s neck, clinging softly. “I feel like I’m still in your liminal shower,” he confessed.

“It was your liminal shower too,” Ethari said. Long, cool strands of white hair lifted with the strokes of his comb and fell softly against Runaan’s bare back as he worked out its tangles.

Runaan felt nearly dizzy with contentment as Ethari combed his hair through from top to bottom. Reluctantly, he gave himself permission to just sit in his boyfriend’s lap and cling gently, feeling like the world’s most spoiled lap cat.

“Doing okay?” Ethari murmured, after Runaan had been quiet for a while.

“ _Mmhh_.” Runaan nodded against his neck.

“Mmkay, good. Just want you comfy right now.” Ethari’s free hand soothed its way along Runaan’s back, beneath his hair.

Runaan’s breathing shallowed, and his fingers dug into Ethari’s back. _How is this real? How did I get here? I came here with the shittiest plan in the world—_

“Runaan?” Ethari’s soft voice interrupted his spiral again, almost before it could begin.

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to do anything special to your hair for sleeping? Braid, ponytail, a hairnet or something? Curlers?”

Runaan managed not to snort through his broken nose, but just barely. “Some kind of braid would be great. Thank you.”

“You got it, hon.” Ethari took his time weaving Runaan’s hair into a loose, thick braid. Cool, damp locks brushed across Runaan’s back at regular intervals, soothing him back into a dreamlike state. When Ethari’s fingers reached the bottom of Runaan’s hair, he held it together and said, “Ah, no, I forgot something to tie it with.”

“My hair tie’s still in your bathroom somewhere,” Runaan murmured sleepily.

“That’s way too far away,” Ethari replied.

Runaan didn’t react to Ethari’s hand moving, but his eyes popped open at the sound of ripping fabric. “What’re you doing?”

“Getting something to tie your braid with.” Ethari held up a soft strip of purple cloth he’d apparently torn from the hem of his sleep shorts.

 _Ethari’s just ripping his clothes off for me, huh?_ Runaan couldn’t help grinning before he protested, “That’s really not necessary. It’s just a braid.”

“And this is just a pair of shorts.” Ethari’s deft fingers were already wrapping the cloth in place to secure Runaan’s braid. “There we go, hmm? All set. Now, let’s get you wrapped up again.” He tugged Runaan’s blanket back up over his shoulders and kissed him lightly. “Wait here. I’m going to get you some more water.”

Runaan let Ethari slip out from under him and shivered inside his blanket at the loss of his boyfriend’s body heat. Ethari returned with a full glass of water and also a bottle of blue Gatorade, as well as another, bigger, fluffier blanket. Runaan stared at the giant armful with wide eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m about to get snuggled to death?”

Ethari tipped up his chin with one finger and waggled his eyebrows. “Because you’re so good at tactically reading the room, I guess.”

For some reason, Ethari’s cheesy compliment brought a soft blush to Runaan’s cheeks. He let Ethari rearrange him on the bed, moving food and drink and blankets here and there, until the men lay propped together on a pile of pillows against the headboard, with Runaan snuggled in his own fluffy blanket and cuddled against Ethari’s side. The larger blanket draped them from the waist down, leaving Runaan plenty of Ethari’s warm bare skin to touch with the hand he sneaked out of his blanket wrap.

The lovers talked into the night, of soft things, and of dark things softly. Of Will, Zay, nightmares, therapy. Of hope, pleasure, gratitude, joy. They held each other tightly and reassured each other that they weren’t alone. Ethari periodically plied Runaan with a tasty bite of apple or nut and held the etched glass for him so he could drink. He rewarded every single sip and bite with a little kiss, and even though Runaan recognized the conditioning for what it was, he welcomed his boyfriend’s gentle training.

“You really are a service top, aren’t you?” he murmured sleepily.

Ethari pressed a soft kiss against his hair. “If you need one, then yes, I am.”

Blissfully exhausted laughter shook Runaan’s chest, and his fingers dug playfully into Ethari’s abs, making him twitch and giggle. “That whole attitude is service toppy, don’t deny it.”

Ethari brushed his thumb along Runaan’s cheekbone and gently dragged his nails along his hair. “You’re probably right, hon.”

Runaan’s very soul ached with joy as he rested his head against Ethari’s shoulder and let the taller man snuggle him close in his soft blanket. Waves of euphoria and sleepiness took turns washing over him, and the last vestiges of his security-conscious safeguards began to drift into smoke and vanish for the night. But something very important lit behind his eyes, and he sucked in a steadying breath and pried his eyes open. “Ethari…”

“Shhh, Runaan, it’s okay to fall sleep. It’s after midnight, and we’ve talked a _lot_. If you need anything tonight, I’m right here, okay? You can sleep now.”

“No… important.”

Ethari looked at him fully, wearing a soft smile. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Runaan closed one eye, then the other, trying to focus on Ethari’s face. “Two things.”

“Okay.”

Runaan’s eyes slipped shut.

“Runaan?”

He jerked his head back up with a quick twitch.

“What’s the first thing?” Ethari prompted.

“I’m sorry. Again. For earlier. So sorry…”

Ethari tensed under his cheek for a moment before offering him a complex smile. “You were in a really bad place. I’m glad you’re not there anymore. What’s the second thing?”

Runaan lay his cheek back down against Ethari’s warm chest and felt his eyes sting. “Thank you. For helping me leave it.” He blinked hard, and two hot tears spilled against Ethari’s skin, sealing the two of them together.

Ethari’s hands gently caressed his back. “You don’t need to apologize any more, and you don’t need to thank me. I wanted to be there for you. And I’m glad I was strong enough to do it.”

Runaan nodded against his chest and began to slide down that dark slope into sleep. Just before he toppled off the end into comfortable and welcoming darkness, he murmured three more words. They echoed back to him as if Ethari had spoken again, at exactly the same time, with exactly the same sentiment.

“I love you.”

***

Runaan woke suddenly.

_Location: Not my bedroom._

_Timestamp: Dark._

_Proximity status: Not alone._

_Last known location: Italy._

He shuddered and shook off the last vestiges of his recurring nightmare. Then he threw off his blanket with one arm and sucked in a deep lungful of cool night air. It pebbled his skin and made him snuggle more tightly against Ethari, digging his fingers between Ethari’s side and the pillows as he held him close.

His boyfriend hummed softly in sleep inquiry.

Runaan clung to him, trying to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Ethari murmured.

Runaan shook his head against him. “Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.”

“Hmmm? But what if I don’t feel like going back to sleep?” Ethari said softly. He snuggled down off the pile of pillows, pulling Runaan over on top of him and tugging the giant blanket up over Runaan’s shoulders. “It’s Sunday morning. I got nowhere more important to be than right here, right now. And it seems like you need me again, so tell me what I can do to help.”

“It was just a nightmare. I’ll be…” But he trailed off before he could finish his usual denial. A frisson of panic shivered over his skin. Had he really come to Ethari’s house drunk and full of toxic memories and ended up naked in Ethari’s shower moaning his name before being gently fed delicate treats and snuggled to sleep like a pampered lover? Or had that been a crazy, hopeful dream?

_No. I don’t dream in hope. It must’ve been real._

“Touch me again, Ethari, please.”

Ethari hummed appreciatively and slid his hands along Runaan’s back. “I’m _entirely_ at your service, hon.”

“N-No… I meant…”

Ethari’s hands paused obediently as they reached Runaan’s hips. “I did say ‘entirely.’ What do you need, Runaan? What do you need me to do?”

Runaan’s breath hitched, and he pushed himself up with one arm. With the other, he took Ethari’s hand and moved it gingerly to the rough patch of scarring. “…Please… again…?”

Ethari’s lips parted softly in the dimness. “Oh, Runaan…” His palm pressed gently over Runaan’s scars, and he arched up for a soft kiss. The combination of warm lips and a soft touch pulled at Runaan’s soul, soothing him despite his inner angst. Ethari broke the kiss and murmured against his lips, “You sure it’s okay for me to touch your scars like this? It doesn’t hurt you?”

A brief, mirthless smile flickered across Runaan’s lips. “Turns out I’m healing better than I expected. The memories hurt, but most everything else is scar tissue, or prosthetics. The crash, the surgeries… I don’t want them to matter anymore.”

“Then they don’t have to.” Ethari spread his hand softly, caressing Runaan’s side. His hand shifted across Runaan’s abdomen, and then he let out a soft chuckle. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’m not really sure where most of your scars are. I can’t feel the difference in the dark.”

“What?” Runaan clapped a disbelieving hand to his side and found the rough, burnt patch of skin exactly as it had always been.

“You’ll have to guide me again,” his boyfriend said quietly, pressing the tip of one finger against Runaan’s chest.

Runaan was still caught up in shock at the idea that Ethari couldn’t immediately perceive all his damage. His hand belatedly took Ethari’s to guide it across his skin.

But Ethari’s hand stiffened in his grip. “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean to get pushy. You don’t have to do it this way if you don’t want to.”

Runaan’s voice was a gentle murmur. “No, it’s okay. I did ask.”

Ethari squeezed his hand. “You can always tell me No, even for this. _Especially_ for this.”

Runaan’s tummy fluttered suddenly, and his voice got breathy. “Can I… lie on top of you while you do it? And you can hold me like you did in the shower?”

Ethari grinned and bit his lip. “That works for you, huh?”

Runaan felt his cheeks heat. “Apparently. I can still recite every word you said to me. Your voice in my ear like that… it’s very, ah, motivating.”

Ethari hummed interestedly. “Come down here, then.”

Runaan lay down and rolled over until he splayed across Ethari’s chest. He let his legs slide along the outside of Ethari’s and shifted until his head rocked back against his boyfriend’s shoulder. A giddy shudder rippled through him at the memory of how Ethari had pleasured him so masterfully, and he needed a minute to catch his breath.

Ethari held his hips comfortingly. “You like more than just this position, don’t you?” he murmured. “It feels good being vulnerable with me, letting me behind you. Trusting me. You haven’t trusted anyone in a while. But you want to, and I want to be worthy of that trust. Will you trust me to help you through this?”

Runaan let out a soft whimper in the affirmative and took one of Ethari’s hands. Softly, in the dark, he pressed Ethari’s warm finger against his skin and began to trace his scars again by memory. He knew every twist and ripple by heart, every dip and pucker. How could Ethari say he couldn’t feel them?

Ethari’s other hand slid along his arm, across his shoulder, and gently tipped his jaw back a little further, holding Runaan’s head against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Runaan nodded against his grip. His breathing was shaky and erratic, dizzying. He craved the sweet edge of vertigo it gave him, knowing that Ethari held him safe and secure. He dragged Ethari’s finger like a paintbrush across the trembling canvas of his skin, drawing each spidery line, one by one, completing the picture he wore.

Ethari’s breath puffed warmly against his ear. “Talk to me, Runaan. Tell me what this means to you, showing this to me.”

Runaan’s voice creaked as he spoke, as if his secrets were a century old, their hinges tight. “I want to say Yes to you, Ethari. No one asks me if they can touch me. They just do. But you… I want you to. I want to choose you.”

“Who touches you, Runaan?” A tiny thrill shot down Runaan’s spine at the dangerous burr in Ethari’s voice.

“Doctors. Nurses. Surgeons. Paramedics. Therapists. All trying to help me. But they don’t ask if I want it.” Runaan drew Ethari’s finger under his right pec, and after a breathless second, he pressed his boyfriend’s hand against the thick pad of his muscle.

Ethari stroked his thumb lightly along Runaan’s skin. “You got tired of being touched?”

“I got tired of being treated like a _child_. Like I didn’t know myself well enough to speak on my own behalf, just because I was hurt. Just because I _stayed_ hurt. And now…” Runaan writhed lightly atop Ethari, testing his grip, finding it secure. “Now maybe I don’t know myself. I don’t know anything anymore. But I want to start again, with you. I want your touch, I want to get to say Yes and No. _Fuck_ , Ethari, you have no idea how hot that is to me.”

Ethari ran his hand lightly across Runaan’s skin, leaving soft traces of warmth cross his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen. Paying his scars no mind at all. “Saying Yes to me is hot?”

Runaan’s back arched off of Ethari’s chest, chasing that delicate touch, wanting a firmer hold. “You letting me choose for myself is hot.”

“Ah, baby, _god_ ,” Ethari murmured against his ear. “That’s what I want for you. You knowing you can say anything you want to me. I don’t want any power over you. That’s not my speed. I want to do this _with_ you, not _to_ you.”

Runaan shifted one of Ethari’s hands to his heart and clasped it there with both of his own. “I… god, I don’t even know what that means. No one’s ever said that to me before. But it sounds beautiful. It’s beautiful.”

“ _You’re_ beautiful,” Ethari said, nuzzling his ear with soft kisses.

“I…” Tears of amazement sprang to Runaan’s eyes as he relived Ethari’s soft, insistent encouragement in the shower once again. That lesson in self-esteem had been earth-shattering, its clarity burned into his soul with the cool fire of ecstasy. “Please, tell me why you think that’s true. You’ve seen all of me now. Has it just not sunk in yet?”

Ethari moved his other hand over Runaan’s heart, too. “Can I tell you what your scars mean to me?” he asked softly.

Runaan stopped breathing and froze, but Ethari gently rocked him loose again. “I… don’t think I ever realized they could mean things to _other_ people…” he breathed. The tears were back, stinging his eyes.

Ethari spoke between that breath and the next. “They tell me you’re brave, and strong, and dedicated,” he said, pressing his lips right against Runaan’s ear. His hands danced across Runaan’s pecs, tracing their strength.

“N-No, that’s not—”

“Shh.” Ethari cupped a hand lightly over Runaan’s mouth. His other thumbnail teased Runaan’s nipple to an urgent point. “Hear me out, okay?”

Runaan nodded breathlessly. “ _Mmmff_.”

Ethari’s finger slipped along Runaan’s bottom lip. “You scared them to death. That’s what I think happened.”

“Who?” Runaan blurted.

Ethari let his thumb pull softly at the corner of Runaan’s mouth while his other hand caressed the washboard of his abs. “The hijackers,” he murmured. “You terrified them. They must’ve known who you were. They tried to avoid you, didn’t they?” His fingertip pressed inside Runaan’s lips, followed by another, and Runaan gave them a tentative flick with his tongue. Ethari hummed in delight and continued, “But they didn’t see you until they’d already boarded. And by then it was too late for them. They’d committed.” He rolled his hips beneath Runaan’s, nudging him with his thighs, pressing his fingers deeper into Runaan’s mouth.

Runaan bucked and gasped wetly around Ethari’s fingers, entirely and wonderfully distracted from his usual traumatic reactions by Ethari’s pleasurable manhandling. He squeezed his eyes shut, surrendering entirely to Ethari’s touch. “ _Nnghh… hhngh…_ ”

“Hmmm? You know I’m right,” Ethari said, his tone soft and satisfied. “Everything they did to you was because they were scared of you. _You_ were the biggest threat in the room, not them. You had them shitting their pants, Runaan.” Ethari rolled his hips harder beneath Runaan’s, lifting his body in a slow arch.

Runaan writhed, drooling around Ethari’s fingers, his shuddering form draped down the length of his boyfriend’s body. He _knew_ this time, knew what Ethari was doing to him, and he _craved_ it. Every cell in his body yearned for Ethari’s truth, for a new set of emotions to stitch to it. “ _Mmggh_ , _please_ ,” he said around his mouthful.

Ethari slid his wet fingers from Runaan’s mouth and trailed them down his throat. “Do you want to know what I know, Runaan?” Ethari breathed.

Runaan moaned deliciously as he sprawled across his boyfriend’s body, twitching and heaving for breath. “ _Mmhh_ , please, please tell me, _god_.”

“Mmmm, you sound very ready to hear what I have to say.” Ethari rolled to the side, keeping Runaan tight against his chest. He corralled Runaan’s legs with a heavy thigh, holding him still. He rocked against him, nudging him partway onto his stomach and pinning him in place.

Runaan nearly choked, writhing delightedly against Ethari’s warmth and weight.

Ethari chuckled against his ear. “Oh no you don’t, you’re staying right where I put you. Hear me out. I know that everything that happened during that hijacking was about you. You were too skilled, too in control, too deadly, for them to get what they wanted. So they focused on you. Not Will. _You_. You held everyone’s lives in the palm of your hand, and they knew it. They tried to handle you, but even their best efforts couldn’t contain you. You did your job no matter what. You succeeded at your mission, Runaan. Because you’re _just that good_.”

Beneath Ethari’s sturdy weight, pinned against the mattress, sprawled and tangled amid fluffy blankets, Runaan began trembling. His chest couldn’t seem to get enough air, and his limbs didn’t quite feel attached anymore. “I… I…”

Ethari gave Runaan a gentle full-body hug, squeezing him with his leg. “Okay, c’mere, I think you need soft now.” He turned Runaan back over to face him, and Runaan fairly launched himself into Ethari’s arms. He hooked a knee over Ethari’s hip and snuggled close, and Ethari wrapped his warm arms around him and rested one of his thighs between Runaan’s. “Doing okay?”

“ _Mmhhh_.” Runaan’s breath heaved in and out like a bellows. His whole body trembled lightly. But his mind swirled with fireflies, each pinprick of light illuminating a flicker of detail on that massive boulder that loomed large in his past. He ached for, and feared, what more light would reveal.

Ethari’s voice murmured in his ear. “I think _you_ see what happened during the hijacking as one big disaster. But _I_ see one jerk client who didn’t respect your boundaries, and I _also_ see one absolutely badass bodyguard who outclassed everyone else three times over.” Ethari pressed a soft kiss against Runaan’s cheek. “Including your client. You protected his pushy ass, you terrified the bad guys into focusing on you, you lulled them with deadly patience, and then you seized your moment. I, _god_ …”

His arms tightened protectively, and his breath hitched. His fingers sieved into Runaan’s hair and pulled him right against his shoulder. “I can’t imagine what you went through, I can’t. but I’m _so proud_ of you for doing what was so important to you. You did your best. And Runaan, your best was good enough.” He cupped Runaan’s cheek and met his eyes with a soft, encouraging smile. “You did it. You’re amazing. My boyfriend is _amazing_.”

“ _Nnhhh_ …” Ethari’s gentle voice in his ear left Runaan feeling like he’d been seduced, topped, and delightfully fucked by an alternate reality in which things like shame and fear didn’t exist. Though he could see Ethari, feel his skin, his warmth, his mind’s eye rocketed back to that heavy boulder and its unbreakable chain. To the guilty weight he’d been struggling to drag out of the past for three solid years, to the shame that everything bad in his life was his own fault, to the belief that he deserved his scars as a mark of weakness, of failure. He hadn’t budged that huge rock a single millimeter in all that time.

In the blink of an eye, he suddenly—blindingly, dizzyingly, _breathlessly_ —understood why. That boulder would never _leave_ his past. That boulder _was_ his past. And he had been trying to drag it along with him for three years. _No wonder I haven’t made any headway._

 _But now…_ Runaan lay panting, treasured, and protected within the circle of his lover’s arms, and dared to think that he belonged there. Like the rising of the dawn, the notion that he could just _drop the boulder’s chain_ crested the edge of his consciousness. He clung to Ethari as the light in his mind’s eye lit the boulder that rested in his mind, its low angle revealing deeply carved words that felt as if they’d been there all along, hidden by the dark.

Runaan tensed and looked up, reading them with his heart in his throat.

_It wasn’t my fault._

“What the fuck…” he blurted softly. “Ethari, what the _fuck_.”

“Runaan?” Ethari’s hands were soft but firm, holding him steady. “How’re you doing, hon?”

“I… I…” He started heaving for breath, shaking with wild, frenetic hope. He pressed his hands over his mouth as if he might bark another desperate laugh into the room at zero dark thirty.

Ethari pulled him tight against his chest again. “C’mere, I’ve got you.”

Runaan clung tightly, burying his face against his neck. “The things you say… You shake me. I’m _shook_.”

“Big night, huh?” Ethari murmured, rubbing his hands gently along Runaan’s back.

“ _Nnhhh_ , god, I can’t keep all of this inside me, it’s so much… I don’t know what to do.”

“What is it, Runaan? Give it a name for me.” Ethari’s voice was reverent.

 _What is it? Hope? Peace? A helping hand? What is this, what’s this man doing to me?_ Runaan’s lip trembled, and a sob escaped against Ethari’s skin. “Light. It’s the _light_. I can see it now.” His body shook with tension, and he cried out softly, utterly overwhelmed, utterly lost in the bottomless truth that Ethari’s love had shown him. He heaved for breath through the biggest smile he’d worn in three years. “ _I can see the light_.”

Ethari pressed a fierce kiss against his forehead and squeezed him so tightly that he feared his prosthetic rib might unhook again. Runaan felt his boyfriend’s chest hitch with a quiet sob.

Runaan’s voice came out shaky as he said, “Ethari, I have no words… but I want to learn how to make you as happy as you’ve made me. Whatever it takes.” His breath hitched on the last word, and his arms tightened hard around Ethari. “You said you weren’t ready tonight…”

“Mmhmm…?” Ethari’s voice was faint, as if he were uncertain.

Runaan could taste his own desire on his tongue, it was so thick. He leaned his forehead against Ethari’s collarbone. “No… I’m not asking you to change your mind. You get to say No to me, too. I just… this is a lot to take in at once…”

Ethari’s big hands smoothed Runaan’s hair back from his face and tilted his chin up. “What’cha need, hon?”

“Can you… can you hold me down? Just hold me. Like a security blanket. I’m gonna have a big case of the shakes for a while, and I just don’t want to let it rattle my teeth out before it passes.” Runaan rolled onto his back, and his fingers plucked at Ethari’s shoulders, silently asking him to follow.

With a smiling groan, Ethari shifted a leg over Runaan’s hips and snuggled up against his side. “Well, your teeth are super cute,” he murmured.

Runaan let out a trembling laugh. “What? My _teeth_ are cute?”

“Cutest teeth I’ve ever seen,” Ethari said. He shifted again, straddled Runaan’s hips, and propped himself on his elbows, then he brushed a loose lock of hair from Runaan’s eyes. “How’s this?”

“Closer.” Runaan pulled him down into a full body hug and twined one leg around Ethari’s. “Stay right here, just…”

Ethari relaxed his weight, and it spread across Runaan like a soft warm comforter, pinning him gently to the bed. Runaan writhed against him lightly, testing, and Ethari wriggled back, chuckling. “Now you can’t escape,” he teased.

“Good,” Runaan breathed. His teeth chattered hard for a few moments. “Perfect. Just… don’t let me up. I need to give it time to sink in.”

Ethari lifted his head and looked down into Runaan’s eyes. “Let what sink in?”

Runaan blinked in the darkness and spoke his light. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Ethari breathed out through a radiant smile. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s for a long moment, and then he kissed him softly, sharing that truth as equals. “It wasn’t your fault,” he agreed.

Runaan nodded. His chest heaved, and tears spilled over his cheeks, and he kept nodding. Finally, an ecstatic laugh burst out of him, and he wiggled hard, trying to escape Ethari’s pin.

Ethari tenderly held Runaan in place as he gasped and sobbed and laughed. He alternated between clinging to his precious captor and trying to escape his welcome weight. He fell silent now and again, heaving for breath, but his new light soon shone brightly again, and he struggled to contain its momentous truth all over again.

_It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault._

Finally, Runaan had no choice but to accept the truth that lovingly and firmly held him down, refusing to let him run away and hide anymore. He saw the boulder, and the truth of its words carved in stone. He saw its heavy chain in his hands. Ethari reached out beside him, and Runaan dropped the chain with a clatter, taking his boyfriend’s hands instead. In his mind’s eye, the sudden change in weight caused him to float right off the ground. “Oh my god,” he breathed at last, panting, “oh god, it’s real. It’s really real.” He squeezed Ethari tight and muffled a soft string of curses against his boyfriend’s skin, and Ethari murmured encouraging sounds in his ear.

When he ran out of breath, he let his head flop back onto the mattress, still grateful for the secure pressure of Ethari’s body. A moment later, a jaw-cracking yawn overtook him.

“You did amazing and I’m super proud of you tonight, Runaan,” Ethari murmured against his ear, sleepy and utterly boneless atop him.

Runaan curled around Ethari in every way he could, softly clinging. “Thank you.”

“Told you, don’t need to thank me,” Ethari mumbled. “‘S all good, honey.”

With the sweet slowness of well-earned exhaustion, the men draped themselves in snuggly blankets and curled up, feeling each other breathe and drifting toward blessed sleep.

Runaan nuzzled close, breathing Ethari’s scent, and reassessed his priorities.

_Mission: Protect Ethari._

_Status check:_ _I love him. More than reason or poetry could ever express._

_Priority upgrade: End three-year deactivation period for top-priority level. Level One Priority reinitiated. Mission: Protect Ethari is hereby upgraded to At All Costs._

Runaan smiled in the dark, letting his new choice settle into his heart. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, safe in his lover’s arms, cradled by Ethari’s light.

***

Runaan woke suddenly.

_Location: Ethari’s bed._

_Timestamp: Lazy morning._

_Proximity status: Snuggled._

_Last known location: Heaven._

He breathed deeply and yawned, flexing his fingers. They tangled pleasantly in Ethari’s hair, bringing a soft hum to Runaan’s lips. He stretched like a cat, arching sinuously against his sleepy lover. As he relaxed again, his head pillowed on Ethari’s chest, and one thigh draped carelessly across his hips. His skin was warm from hours of contact with Ethari’s, and their fluffy blankets lay strewn carelessly about, covering the odd limb and nothing more, revealing their numerous nighttime position changes.

Ethari didn’t stir at Runaan’s stretching. Runaan pouted and tried again, draping himself across Ethari like a blanket as he reached for Ethari’s phone on the night stand to check the time.

He reached it and blinked in surprise. _After eleven? No way. How late were we up last night?_

Ethari’s warm hand found the back of his leg and gently caressed its way upward, though his eyes didn’t open. Runaan smirked and remained still, pretending to look at Ethari’s phone. His boyfriend’s hand gently rode the fabric of his bike shorts along his thigh and crested the curve of his ass before sliding up his back, where it found Runaan’s heavy night braid. Still feigning sleep, Ethari reeled it in, pulling Runaan toward him.

With a chuckle, Runaan let himself be summoned. He sprawled atop Ethari’s chest, commandeered his chin, and pressed a warm kiss against his lips. “Good morning.”

“Mmm, it is now,” Ethari mumbled. With eyes still shut, he pulled Runaan into his arms and settled him on top, questing with his lips for more kisses.

Runaan was happy to provide them between soft hums of amusement. “Did you sleep?” he asked softly.

“Mmhmm.” More kisses, soft, quick, like raindrops. “You?”

Runaan sighed happily. “I didn’t have any more nightmares. I count that as a win.”

“Good, I’m glad. You hungry?”

Runaan’s stomach growled softly. “It would seem so.”

Ethari took a deep breath, as if preparing to get up. “I’ll go see what I’ve got. Don’t you move.”

Runaan frowned, puzzled. “You think I can’t help in the kitchen? Janai would be insulted.”

Ethari groaned through a chuckle and rolled Runaan over onto his back, pinning him beneath his hips. He propped himself on one hand and took Runaan’s chin with the other. Runaan had time for his eyes to widen before Ethari’s mouth was on his. His tongue teased Runaan’s, and his fingers danced across Runaan’s skin, teasing along his ears, at his throat, across his chest. In moments, Runaan was a breathless mess, arching toward Ethari’s hand, pulling his head down for a more passionate kiss. Ethari indulged him for a little and then broke the kiss, leaving Runaan whimpering and pouty.

“There now, you stay here with those good vibes while I go hit up the kitchen for breakfast ideas,” Ethari said with a smirk. He tucked the fluffy blanket over Runaan to keep him snuggly, and then added the bigger blanket too. “Don’t want you getting cold without me.” He rolled off the bed and landed on his feet, padding toward the kitchen in just his soft purple sleep shorts.

Runaan inhaled the view of Ethari from head to toe with a crooked grin. “I hope you know how to treat hypothermia,” he said in the direction of Ethari’s retreating ass. “You’re taking all the hot with you!”

Ethari paused in the doorway and smirked over his shoulder. “Huddle for warmth, chest to chest,” he recited.

Runaan made a soft choking sound and writhed luxuriously in the blanket nest Ethari had made for him. Ethari vanished from sight with a sassy grin and a wink.

 _Lucky guess_ , he grumped. He stuck one foot out of the blankets. _Maybe I’ll toss these off and sprawl out—nope, too cold._ He huddled up and shivered, pulling Ethari’s pillow into his arms again and breathing deeply of its lovely smell.

Cupboards banged for a minute, and then Ethari reappeared, hopping onto the bed next to him and scooping Runaan and his blankets into his arms. “I have good news and bad news,” he began, as he nibbled along Runaan’s neck.

Runaan arched into the pleasurable sensation of Ethari’s teeth grazing his skin. “What’s the bad news?”

“I need to walk to Orchards grocery store around the corner for a couple of things. And I want you to stay here, all snuggly and warm in my bed, waiting for me to come back.”

“I said the _bad_ news,” Runaan teased. Ethari chuckled and pulled him across to the other side of him, dragging blankets behind him and getting Runaan all tousled. “Wh-What’s the good news then?” he asked, a bit breathlessly.

“We’re gonna make waffles.”

Runaan thought fast. “I’m not comfortable with you going alone, Ethari. I told you, I’m being watched. But I have a plan. Since you don’t want me rising from your bed just yet, will you bring me my phone from the pocket of my leather jacket? I need to send a couple of texts.”

Ethari smooched him gratefully. “I like the part when you tell me what’s going on. Be right back.”

When he put Runaan’s phone in his hand, the security consultant sat up with the fluffy blanket draped loosely over one shoulder and immediately texted Ferg.

_Need you at Orchards grocery on Chestnut in fifteen. Bring Andi. Follow Ethari. Watch for other tails, specifically Aaravos._

He sent the text, then he looked up curiously. “What are you getting at the store?”

Ethari rattled off a few items. “Why?”

Runaan’s thumbs started tapping. “They’ll need a cover.” He hit send and smirked, satisfied with his morning plan.

“Cover for what? Remember how I like the part where you tell me what’s going on?” Ethari prompted, nudging his shoulder against Runaan’s.

Runaan’s smirk faded into a serious expression. “Ferg and Andi will be in the store, keeping an eye on you. I gave them a shopping list. They’ll exit with you and hand their bags over once you’ve left. Don’t look inside. Just bring them home.”

“What am I bringing you?” Ethari asked cautiously. “Or should I even ask?”

“You’re bringing waffle brunch things, Ethari.” Runaan leaned forward, slipped a hand around the back of Ethari’s neck, and pulled him close for a kiss. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe the whole time. This is my job.”

Ethari leaned into their kiss happily, toppling Runaan back onto the bed and gently roughing him up with the blankets. “Why don’t you just come with me yourself? Seems easier.”

“If they see me, they might think I know they’re watching. That has ramifications for my mission, which I’d rather avoid. But if they _are_ watching, I don’t want them bothering you. So: Ferg and Andi.”

Ethari nibbled at his lip and looked down into Runaan’s liquid turquoise eyes. “Alright. This _is_ what you do all day. We’ll do it your way.”

Runaan snuggled back under his blankets and hummed appreciatively as Ethari got dressed in a soft pair of jeans and a Samus T-shirt. Ethari headed back to the bed, pulled a hoodie over his head, and kissed Runaan goodbye. “You’d better be in this bed when I get back, Runaan, or there will be consequences.”

Runaan lifted his chin, received his kiss, and said, “And what is it you’re threatening me with this morning?”

Ethari thought for a moment. “Whatever you’re having your team buy, I’m not using it.”

Runaan’s expression immediately fell into dismay before he could cover it up, and Ethari threw back his head and laughed. “Well now I’m extra curious what you’ve planned! Can’t wait to get back home. See you in a few, hon.”

Runaan listened for the door to click behind Ethari, and he reluctantly snuggled in place to await his boyfriend’s return. He wriggled luxuriously amid the fluffy blankets, appreciating their texture and lightness against his skin. But he still wished he could snuggle up against Ethari instead.

Restless while he waited, he sat up and drank the rest of the water from the etched glass. His braid rested across the front of his shoulder, and he played with it lightly. _I suppose I don’t really need it anymore now that I’m up…_

A grin spread across his face, and he reached for the purple strip of fabric at the bottom of his hair.

***

Ethari dropped off last night’s clothes in the laundry room and hurried to the store through the damp morning air, hiding under his hood with his hands jammed in his pockets. He thought he spotted a pair of people lurking near the store’s sliding glass doors as if waiting for him, but he wasn’t sure since they headed right inside ahead of him. He cruised the aisles, picking the eggs and vanilla flavoring he wanted, but he also grabbed some bananas, flavored syrup, and honey, just in case Runaan had different waffle preferences.

He checked out and tried to walk slowly and obviously toward the exit, past the Starbucks that sat front and center in the store, not sure how Runaan’s people would make contact. _They always gloss this part over in the movies_ , he thought.

“Hey, you forgot this one,” a voice called.

Ethari turned and saw a shorter, athletic-looking couple approaching from the checkout lanes.

The woman—Andi, presumably—held out a bag and said again, “You left this behind, dude.”

His eyes widened. “Oh,” he blurted. “Thanks. I guess I’m not really awake yet. You know how it is.”

The wide-eyed, smirking look that passed between her Ferg, whose gauge earring Ethari remembered from the day he and Runaan had their first kiss, shot a hot blush deep into Ethari’s cheeks.

“ _You_ know,” he rambled, scrambling for some logic to cover his embarrassment, “before you’ve had your coffee? I should get coffee while I’m here. And, uh, let me buy you some too. To thank you for grabbing my other bag for me.” He tipped his head toward the Starbucks.

Andi’s expression made her look like an exhausted AI who was about at her limit in dealing with mortals, but Ferg squeezed her shoulders just a little too tightly and grinned at Ethari, snorting at her exasperation under his breath. “Sounds great, man. Thanks!”

Ethari took the bag from Andi, and they stood in line together in awkward silence. Ethari was incredibly aware of every inch of himself: the strain of the plastic bags across his fingers; the hair he’d only finger-combed—again—the comfy old jeans he’s just thrown on without thinking… _Oh god, do I smell like Runaan? I must. We slept in each other’s arms all night! Can they smell their boss on me? Holy shit, they can, can’t they?_ Ethari rubbed a desperate hand across his face, trying to unthink that thought. He’d earned Runaan’s scent, and he loved it. But he hadn’t really anticipated it getting _recognized_.

“How is he?” Andi’s voice was just above a whisper, nearly lost in the bustle of the store around them.

Ethari twitched, but he didn’t turn to face her. He stared off toward the cart return and felt a smile blossoming across his cheeks. “Hungry,” he said, lifting the grocery sacks for a moment.

“Told you,” she muttered even more softly, to Ferg. Ethari blushed all over again as he heard them high-five behind him.

The line moved forward, and Ethari placed his usual coffee order, a grande mocha with whipped cream. Then he stepped aside for Andi and Ferg to give theirs. Ferg paused after his order and looked right at Ethari. “And uh, you’ll be having that other one to go too, yeah?”

“What? Oh, the uh, the… yeah, uh-huh…?” Ethari stammered. Was Ferg about to drop Runaan’s coffee order just for him? Was this… _approval?_

Ferg grinned and shook his head just a little at Ethari’s nerves. He turned back to the barista. “Yeah, and a quad tall Pike Place with hazelnut and an inch of almond milk, too. He’s paying.”

Ethari fumbled his card into the slot, and they waited near the pickup end of the Starbucks island together. Feeling lighthearted in a whole new way, Ethari dared to ask, “Did he ask you to get him coffee?”

“Don’t know what you mean, mate,” Ferg said without looking up from his phone. “You offered to buy coffee, not us.”

“Oh, right. Well. Maybe I should see what I, uh, forgot that I was buying, then,” Ethari said teasingly. He lifted the second grocery bag and started to peek inside.

Andi’s hand was a steel band around his wrist, but her eyes twinkled up at him. “I can see why he likes you, sassy boy,” she lilted. “But we will never speak of your shopping bag. Ever.”

Ethari’s hand clenched around the bag’s neck. “Oh god, what the heck did he ask you to get? Now _I’m_ afraid to look!”

Ferg snickered. “Lord, Andi, he doesn’t _know_ yet. This is _gold_.”

“Is this why Runaan told me not to talk to you?” Ethari muttered.

The two of them cackled under their breath. “Oh, it definitely is,” Ferg said. “Tell you what. You don’t mention that we talked, and we won’t either.”

“Nope, we’ll just savor this moment and blackmail him with it someday,” Andi added with a wink.

Ferg gave Ethari a speculative look. “Or you,” he allowed.

“Me?” Ethari gulped.

“If you stick around, you’re fair game too,” the shorter man said. His smile was oddly encouraging.

Their coffee order was called, and Runaan’s teammates collected theirs, thanked him, and left without a backward glance. Ethari stacked his and Runaan’s in a carrier and hurried home, pleasantly warmed by his chance encounter, and by the gift of secret insider Runaan knowledge.

He let himself into his apartment quietly, in case Runaan had drifted back off to sleep. After setting his shopping on the kitchen counter, he shucked his hoodie and tiptoed down to the bedroom, coffees in hand. “Runaan? Still awake back here?” he called softly.

His boyfriend didn’t answer, so he peeked in the doorway. He nearly dropped the coffees as he blurted, “ _Oh_ my god.”

Runaan lay sprawled on his stomach atop a couple of pillows, studiously reading a book. He’d unbound his hair and let it fall artfully down his back, where it covered his bare skin in naturally dried waves from the braid he’d slept in. His hair was so long that it draped just across the curve of his butt, where its silky ends gave way to the sight of Runaan’s long, muscular thighs. Ethari drank in the sight of him from nose stripes to bare toes three times before he belatedly realized that Runaan’s bike shorts were missing.

“Runaan, are you cosplaying Lady Godiva?” he asked breathlessly.

Runaan looked up at him teasingly and propped his chin on one hand. “I don’t know. Did she _also_ lend her boyfriend some pink underwear and never get them back?” He set down his book, reached back with his finger, and snapped the waistband of his pink bikini underwear loudly enough for Ethari to hear it.

“You butt,” Ethari said as he started to wheeze.

Runaan smirked up at him. “You said I had to be in bed when you returned. But you neglected to give me any further mission parameters. I was forced to improvise.”

Ethari came over to the bed, still chuckling. “Well, I’m glad to see that you’re comfortable enough to let your hair down around me, hon. It looks beautiful. Incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular. I don’t know how I’m going to concentrate on making waffles now. All I’m going to be thinking about is you and your hair and your reclaimed bootyshorts.”

Runaan tsked. “They are _not_ booty sh—is that _my_ coffee?” His demeanor abruptly changed as he registered the piping hot hazelnut aroma wafting from one of the coffee cups Ethari held. He immediately sat up and reached out for it pleadingly with both hands. His long hair tumbled over his shoulders, pooling in his lap and brushing lightly atop his scars. “Mercy, kind sir,” he begged.

Ethari pressed the hot cup into Runaan’s hands and kissed him in its rising steam. “Good morning again.”

Runaan leaned into that kiss softly, urgently, and when it broke, he held up his coffee and stared at it in wonder.

Ethari sipped his, but Runaan still sat entranced. “You gonna drink it, or just absorb it through psychic osmosis?” he teased.

Runaan gave him a soft, aching look. “You… got me coffee.”

“Mmhmm?”

“ _Hot_ coffee.”

“Well, cold coffee’s no fun.”

Runaan clasped the cup in both hands as if he were having a spiritual moment. “This is my coffee order. You got me… my coffee. For me.”

Ethari beamed. “I did. That’s okay, right?”

Runaan took a sip and closed his eyes. A beatific smile spread across his face. “I think it might be illegal to be this happy.”

Ethari chuckled and shook his head. “I’m going to choose not to be jealous here, just so you know.”

Runaan’s eyes popped open again and fixed on him. He leaned forward, cupped the back of Ethari’s neck, and pressed an intent kiss against his lips. “Don’t be jealous. _You’re_ the reason I’m happy.”

Ethari pressed his forehead against Runaan’s and made a soft sound of longing. He wasn’t sure why Runaan was having such a deep moment of nirvana with his coffee, but he was grateful all over again to Ferg for helping it happen. “Let me find you something to wear and you can help me make these waffles.”

Runaan let him slip free of his hand, and Ethari dug out some soft sweat pants and a FFVII T-shirt and tossed them to him, along with a pair of socks. “The kitchen floor is cold in the mornings,” he explained, as Runaan caught the socks in midair. “Come on out when you’re ready. I’ll fire up the waffle maker.”

He took his coffee to the kitchen and began bustling about, turning on the Belgian waffle maker, pulling a mixing bowl from his cupboard, and freeing ingredients from his shopping bags. He measured batter mix and pulled an egg from his half-dozen carton to crack it. But his eye caught on the bag Andi had handed him, and he tugged it open with a curious finger.

Chocolate syrup. Caramel, cinnamon roll, and blueberry flavors, too. Cake icing meant to be written with. A container of fresh hothouse strawberries. A cute little jug of real maple syrup. And two different cans of whipping cream. He blushed, envisioning the conversation Andi and Ferg must’ve had while they were filling their cart. “Hey Runaan,” he called, “how many toppings do you want?”

“Depends.” Runaan’s velvet voice spoke from right behind him, lazy with smugness. “How much stamina do you have?”

Ethari squeaked and dropped the egg, and it cracked on the kitchen floor. “God, I _really_ need to mop in here before my mom visits.”

Runaan laughed easily and wrapped his arms around Ethari’s waist from behind. “I’ll get it. I owe you, after the mess I made in here last night.” He cleaned up the dropped egg while Ethari cracked another one into the mixing bowl, and Ethari had a lovely view of the messy bun Runaan had twirled his hair into. He’d just finished adding the water by the time Runaan threw away the mess and washed his hands clean again. “You want some help stirring that?” he offered quietly.

Ethari’s brows lifted softly. “Sure. But first: my secret ingredient.”

Runaan’s brows drew together in confusion, as if affected by an opposing eyebrow force. “It’s a mix. It’s already got all the ingredients.”

Ethari puffed out his chest and scoffed like a cocky pirate captain. “O ye of little culinary faith. You see a complete mix, but I see an incomplete masterpiece. Any number of good things can be added to a mix to make it special. My basic addition to waffles is pretty simple, though. Watch and learn.” He cracked open the vanilla extract and added a generous splash to the mixing bowl.

Runaan’s eyes dropped to the dark splash and rose to Ethari’s face. One brow rose in doubt. “That’s it?”

Ethari grinned and gently pulled him closer. “Well, that’s just step one in adding the secret ingredient.” His hands settled on Runaan’s hips, and their noses brushed tips.

“Yeah? What’s step two?” Runaan murmured.

Ethari turned his hips so he faced the counter and pressed a whisk into his hand. He leaned forward against Runaan’s ear and said softly, “You have to stir it with love. Like this.” He took Runaan’s hand in his and began to mix the waffle batter with slow, even, swirling strokes. His other hand snugged comfortably around Runaan’s waist. “You look cute in my shirt.”

Runaan’s shoulders shivered with a light laugh. “Thanks. It’s really comfortable.” He stared carefully at the slowly mixing batter as if reading its consistency like critical data.

That would never do. Ethari pressed a soft kiss just below his ear. “Relax, Runaan. You have to _love_ the waffles, not analyze them.”

Runaan gasped quietly through his nose at Ethari’s gentle attention, and his chest fluttered with shallow breaths beneath Ethari’s touch. “I… sorry…”

“Mmm, don’t be. I do love your intent face.” More kisses warmed Runaan’s skin and sought his earlobe for nibbles.

Runaan gasped and chuckled, twitching out of range. Ethari waited, smilingly. With a fond sigh, Runaan relaxed back into place against Ethari’s chest, even tilting his head to the side a bit, inviting more soft kisses against his neck.

Ethari was happy to indulge him. The whisk got delightfully off track as he closed his eyes and hummed against Runaan’s skin, distracting them both. Runaan shivered delightfully within the circle of his arm, chuckling softly deep in his chest.

Hungry, Ethari chased his way around to Runaan’s jaw, and his boyfriend turned to face him, backed against the counter. Ethari commandeered the whisk behind Runaan’s back and pulled him flush against him with his other arm. Their lips met, soft and eager, tasting each other’s coffee on their tongues. Runaan’s hands slipped softly along Ethari’s waist and found their way up under his T-shirt. They ghosted across his warm skin, pressing into the curve at the small of his back, sliding upward across firm muscle, pulling Ethari closer—

The waffle maker clicked loudly.

“ _Mmhhh_ , guess we’re not the only thing that’s hot in the kitchen,” Ethari said with a chuckle.

Runaan laughed softly and leaned his forehead against Ethari’s. “I just want to make sure… Do you still need more time? Because you’ll have it if you do. I love being with you, so much. I love this soft flirting thing you’re so good at. And I don’t want to pressure you. I only want to go as far as you want me to go.”

Touched, Ethari let go of the whisk and hugged Runaan tightly, burying his face against his neck. “ _Please_ , Runaan, tease me senseless. Be soft with me. I… I’m just sorting things through, still. I promise, I _promise_ , it won’t be long.”

Runaan took Ethari’s face in his hands and met his gaze seriously. He shook his head slightly and murmured, “No, that still feels like pressure. You supported me last night through the most amazing and life-changing thoughts I’ve ever had. And you were right, with everything you said, everything you did…” His cheeks flushed, and he smiled. “You were right. And generous, and forgiving, and gentle. You’ve earned my undying trust, Ethari. And I’m going to do my best to be worthy of it, whatever it takes. Because I fucked up several times in a row last night, and I don’t think I _am_ worthy of you. Not yet. But… maybe I can be. Maybe you’re right about that, too. So I’m going to work on that. On myself. For you. And that includes letting you feel your way through this at the pace you need.”

Ethari nodded solemnly, and then his face creased into a smile. “The pace I need right now needs music. You want to chop the strawberries?”

Runaan glanced aside at the fruit. When his gaze returned, a smirk lingered in the corner of his mouth.

Ethari jammed an anime OST playlist from his phone while Runaan made short, crisp work of the strawberries and bananas. The first waffle got poured, and Ethari closed the lid slowly over the batter, pressing it into the full Belgian mold. “Just wait,” he said, holding up a finger. “You’ll be able to smell the secret ingredient soon.”

“How long will it take?”

“About three minutes.” Ethari tapped the timer on his microwave.

Runaan smiled. “I’ll cut slower, then.”

“Ooh.” Ethari grinned and slipped up behind him. He ran his hands along Runaan’s arms and rested his fingers lightly atop his boyfriend’s, feeling the precise slicing movements his talented hands made as they diced strawberry after strawberry into flavorful little cubes. “Mmm, your hands are magic, Runaan. I could watch you cut things all day.”

Runaan hesitated for a moment and turned his knife to study its blade. After a moment, he said softly, “It’s just strawberries.”

Ethari wrapped his arms around Runaan’s shoulders and rocked him lightly. “No it isn’t.”

Runaan chuckled. “Oh, I smell the love now.” He sniffed appreciatively as the vanilla-scented warmth from the waffle maker reached his nose. “Mmmm, wow. That smells amazing.”

“See? Secret ingredient for the win.” Ethari snuggled against Runaan with one arm as he cut up a couple of bananas, while using his other to order the syrups by color on the countertop and pull a pair of plates from the cupboard. He didn’t try to reach the silverware drawer, though, because it was too far away and meant he’d have to let go of Runaan.

The microwaved beeped, and Ethari coaxed the lid of the waffle maker up gently so it wouldn’t tear the fluffy waffle inside.

“Wow, that’s a beautiful waffle,” Runaan blurted, seeing the golden brown ring, steaming with heat.

“Extra egg makes for extra fluffiness.”

“That’s not another secret ingredient?”

“It is if you don’t tell anyone else,” Ethari said with a wink. He finally let go of his boyfriend, fetched a fork, and teased the waffle onto a plate. “Alright, moment of truth,” he said portentously.

Runaan raised his brows.

Ethari held the plate up like a fancy waiter. “Whose waffle is this, and how many toppings are gonna happen to it?”

Runaan’s eye flickered speculatively across the broad selection of toppings before returning to Ethari’s face. A smirk flirted in the corner of his mouth, and he lifted the plate from Ethari’s fingertips.

“Open up and take it,” Runaan ordered teasingly, five minutes later. He held Ethari’s chin firmly with one hand. “You know you want it.”

“I-I’m trying, just hold it still!” Ethari giggled, clasping Runaan’s hips tightly.

“You’re such a sloppy bottom, look at you,” Runaan said, holding his fork high over Ethari’s head as he perched in his lap. Warm maple syrup drizzled off its waffle piece, only mostly landing in Ethari’s mouth, leaving his cheeks glistening with gooey splatters. “You’re getting it everywhere, all over your face.”

“You’re evil,” Ethari said, laughing. “Just feed me!”

“You want me to fill your mouth?” Runaan asked suggestively.

“Please,” Ethari begged, playing along through helpless giggles. “I need it, I’m so hungry, just shove it in my face. I’m gonna swallow it whole!”

“You think so, hmm?” Runaan shoved the bite of waffle into his own mouth and reached for the whipped cream can he’d brought into the bedroom with their shared waffle. He swallowed and said, “Open up, then.”

“Wha—?” was all Ethari had time to say before Runaan popped the whipped cream nozzle past his lips and pushed it down against his tongue. A moment later, his mouth filled with thick white cream, sweet and cool, swiftly taking up every inch of space. “ _Mmmff_!” he protested, afraid it would overfill him and spurt out.

Runaan cupped a hand behind Ethari’s head, pulled him closer, and replaced the nozzle with his urgent tongue.

Ethari nearly collapsed backward from sheer pleasure. Maple and cream mixed with the taste of his boyfriend’s mouth, and the way Runaan was rocking against him added a whole new layer of physical sensations to their shared mouthful. He gulped the cream down amid frantic whimpers of excitement and gasped for breath as soon as Runaan let the kiss end. “H-Holy… _nnnghfhhck_ , I was right all along,” he said, heaving through a huge grin. “You _are_ evil!”

Wordlessly, Runaan smiled and cut him a big piece of waffle from the plate on the bed beside them. Their first helping was covered in strawberry and banana chunks and dripping with syrup, but the big fluffy waffle was flanked by dipping cups full of extra fruit and warm syrups, a tiny smorgasbord of flavors. He cupped his hand under his forkful to ward off syrup drips and gently fed it to Ethari. Then he gave him a soft peck on the lips while he ate it.

“ _Hmmmmfff_ ,” Ethari said, sighing in bliss. “I take it all back. You’re an angel. A waffle angel.”

“I can be both at the same time,” Runaan murmured. His eyes managed to hold warmth and challenge.

Ethari took Runaan’s hand and guided the fork to cut another piece, which he fed himself with Runaan’s hand in his grip. “Hm’mm. Angel only. Angel of mercy, feeding poor starving gay boys heavenly waffles.”

Runaan gazed at him in soft wonderment, with his eyebrows riding high and his lips slightly parted and a hesitant delight dancing in his eyes. He glanced down at the plate and smiled. A swift cut with the fork let him offer another big sweet bite of waffle to Ethari, but he held up a finger for Ethari to wait a moment. He stabbed a few banana slices, plunged his fork into the dipping bowl of cinnamon roll flavored syrup, and popped them into his mouth.

They ate together, eyes lingering on each other’s mouths, leaning closer and closer, until Ethari swallowed his bite and whimpered softly, parting his lips. Runaan took his mouth gently, pressing his tongue inside with a slow, smooth slip. Sweet cinnamon and fruit burst onto Ethari’s taste buds along with the hot weight of Runaan’s tongue, and Ethari opened wider, letting himself be tasted in return. Runaan groaned softly and held Ethari’s chin lightly, savoring his flavors as if he were a fine wine.

“You taste so good,” Ethari breathed. He leaned forward again, hungry for more sticky sweet kisses.

Runaan lapped his tongue across the corner of Ethari’s mouth, catching a stray trail of syrup. Ethari moaned and slid his hands under Runaan’s T-shirt again, tugging him into another intense kiss, caressing his warm skin, pulling him tight against his chest, feeling Runaan’s breath heaving and his light writhing in Ethari’s lap.

He heard Runaan’s hand fumbling against the waffle’s plate and grinned against his lips, expecting another syrupy bite of waffle.

Runaan broke the kiss and murmured, “Open up for me again.”

Ethari tilted his chin up obediently. But as he opened his eyes, he saw Runaan holding one of the dipping cups. As he gasped lightly, Runaan tilted it, and a thick stream of warm chocolate syrup poured into his mouth. Ethari leaned under its stream with a soft exclamation, trying to protect his bedcovers from sudden chocolate splatters, and Runaan chuckled softly, emptying the entire cup into his mouth.

“Don’t swallow yet. Hold it there for me.”

“ _Nngh_ ,” Ethari demanded softly. His boyfriend’s warm weight in his lap was incredibly comfortable, but Ethari’s fingers twitched hard against Runaan’s waist, revealing his uncertainty.

“You can do it,” Runaan murmured. His finger encouraged Ethari’s head to tilt upward just a little more. Ethari heard the cup return to the plate, and Runaan looked aside for a moment. When his smiling gaze returned to Ethari’s face, he added, “No biting. Be a good boy for me now, hmm?”

“ _Nnhnn_ ,” Ethari agreed, breathless with anticipation.

Runaan dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss alongside Ethari’s jaw. His fingers lifted a whole strawberry, nice and fat and red, into Ethari’s view. Then, with more soft, encouraging kisses along his jaw, Runaan teased the strawberry along Ethari’s lips. “Mmmm, delicious. I can’t wait to taste it. But it’s missing something,” he purred in Ethari’s ear. “Will you help me take care of that?”

“ _Nnn-hnngh_ ,” Ethari begged. He writhed under Runaan’s lap, and his fingers squeezed and released in his soft T-shirt like a kneading kitten.

“Mmmm, that’s good to hear. Open wide for me, Ethari.”

Ethari did, as his chest heaved with delight. Runaan had been hesitant about getting toppy before, but playing with their food was proving an excellent practice run, and Ethari reveled in letting Runaan give him such soft orders. A series of whimpers rippled out of him, and his mouth began to water more heavily.

Runaan slid the fat strawberry over Ethari’s bottom lip and dipped it into the chocolate he held in his mouth. Ethari felt it slide down his tongue as it filled his mouth, felt the chocolate rising up his cheeks as the berry sank into the thick sweetness he contained. Runaan pushed the berry deeper, slowly, gently, and murmured nonstop encouragement near his ear, until it was fully submerged, his fingertips slick and wet with thick warmth, deep in Ethari’s mouth.

“Ah _god_ , you’re amazing,” Runaan breathed. “Here, my turn to help.”

Ethari felt the berry rising again, as Runaan began kissing his way across his cheek. He clung to Runaan’s hips with trembling hands. Runaan’s tongue lapped at the corner of Ethari’s mouth again just as the berry crested his lips, slurping at the chocolate it spilled, rasping across the berry itself, then biting into it with a hungry growl, eating it bite by messy bite right above Ethari’s trembling lips. Ethari’s entire body went tense, and his hands began to sweat around fistfuls of Runaan’s T-shirt.

Runaan took one last bite of the sweet, fat berry and murmured, “Now give it to me, all of it.”

Ethari surged against him, nearly out of his mind with pleasure and desire. He sealed his lips against Runaan’s, dipped his boyfriend backward in a secure hold, and squeezed his mouthful of hot, gooey chocolate into him with a hot groan.

Runaan’s response was immediate and electric. His feet kicked out wildly, even as his hips ground against Ethari’s eagerly. He just barely kept his needy whimpers from bursting through their kiss and spilling chocolate everywhere as his hands knotted in Ethari’s hair. But his foot caught the waffle plate as he flailed in sweet ecstasy, and the waffle and all its accompanying dipping bowls went toppling to the floor with a messy clatter.

The men broke their chocolatey kiss at the crashing noise and stared into each other’s eyes, gasping for breath.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Ethari groaned.

Runaan’s eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry—”

Ethari pulled Runaan upright again, holding him gently. He lapped softly at Runaan’s bottom lip, tasting chocolate, then pressed a gentle kiss against his lips to interrupt his apology. Ignoring the mess on his floor, he murmured, “If that’s how you plan to top, Runaan, then I’m all in. You made me feel so strong and capable, like I could do anything if you were there with me, and you never asked me to do too much for you.”

Runaan’s brows lifted softly.

Ethari wasn’t finished, though. “You moved so gently and slowly, I was never nervous, even when I didn’t know what you had planned. That berry… Holy _shit_. I’ve never felt like the buffet table _and_ the feast before.” He broke into chuckles and bit his lip. “You were amazing.”

Several subtle emotions flickered across Runaan’s face before he settled into stunned happiness. Softly, he leaned against Ethari and held him in his arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, nodding against his shoulder.

Ethari knew Runaan was thanking him for more than his kind words, but he deserved to know how his actions had made Ethari feel. Especially since Ethari definitely wanted more of those feelings in the future. He squeezed him back. “You’re welcome, hon.”

Runaan let out an amused hum. “Would you rate your service this morning as Excellent?”

Ethari pulled back with laughter dancing in his eyes and said, “Five stars. Runaan’s Waffle House has all the best toppings.”

Runaan laughed helplessly against him, then he turned to look at the spilled breakfast. “And bottomings, it would seem. Let me clean that up, and then we can make more waffles.”

“We’ll do it together,” Ethari offered.

Runaan’s turquoise eyes landed on him again. “But… it’s my mess.”

Ethari grinned knowingly, with all the rush and intensity of the past night thrumming behind his smile and radiating from his eyes. “No, I know,” he said lightly. “We’ll do it together anyway.”

Runaan’s brows rose suddenly as he caught Ethari’s deeper meaning, and the smile that lit his face was so beautiful that it brought tears to Ethari’s eyes.

***

They cleaned up the spilled breakfast together, and while Runaan washed the dropped dishes in the kitchen, Ethari popped down to the laundry room to toss their clothes into the dryer.

Then they made some more waffles together, at a softer and more sedate pace. They opted to clear some space on Ethari’s little kitchen table and eat there instead of on the bed, “for security reasons,” and Runaan fed Ethari two whole waffles and packed away another two himself. In between bites, Runaan told Ethari every detail of his plan for the exchange of the Light of Katolis. Including the dangerous ones, the weak spots, and his contingencies for whether Ethari posed as his distracting date or broke his heart and stood him up. Every option had been carefully, clinically considered.

Ethari listened nervously, his hand squeezing Runaan’s, his feet nudging for reassurance under Runaan’s chair. After Runaan had explained everything, Ethari tucked a loose strand of Runaan’s hair behind his ear and cupped the side of his neck. His expression ached for reassurance. “You think you can do this even if I’m not there with you, Runaan?”

Runaan squeezed his hand back. “This is what I do, Ethari. Everything is going to be alright, I promise you.”

“How can you be sure?” Ethari pressed.

“You think I’m foolish to walk in there after I’ve endangered my own heart?” Runaan asked softly. “Well, perhaps I am.”

“It’s not that. I worry that you’ll do something dangerous if things go wrong. That you’ll…” Ethari gulped. “You just told me last night that you used yourself as a target and a distraction. I don’t want you doing that again.” He reached forward and pressed a warm hand against Runaan’s side, a reassuring, hand-sized hug against his scars. “You could die.”

Runaan covered Ethari’s hand with his own. “I have no intention of dying for my duty. Not when I have something so precious to live for instead.”

He’d meant his words to be encouraging, but to his dismay, Ethari’s lip trembled. He scrambled to sit in Runaan’s lap, throwing his arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“Please, _please_ be careful,” he whispered.

Runaan plopped his fork onto his plate and hugged Ethari back. “I will. I will. Every fiber in my being yearns to be with you, Ethari. I can’t stop this job, so I’ll do every single thing in my power to make it through in one piece.”

Without lifting his head, Ethari slid a gentle hand down over Runaan’s scars again. Then his other hand matched it, pressing against Runaan’s other side. He sat back with a soft smile and damp eyes, keeping his gaze on Runaan’s. His boyfriend’s tender touch reminded him of Amaya’s respectful sensitivity. The doubled message of their care and regard for him sank just a little deeper into his soul, and he squeezed Ethari’s waist encouragingly.

Ethari kissed him ever so gently atop his blue nose stripes. “I love you. And all your messy, complicated, moving, prosthetic parts. I love _you_ , Runaan.”

“I love you too, Ethari.” Runaan beamed up at him softly. “I love your soft heart. Your kindness. Your chaotic joy, your lust for life. Your… waffles.” He chuckled, and Ethari joined him. “But… most of all… I love how you love me.”

Ethari’s brows bent softly. “How I…?”

Runaan smiled and rested his forehead against Ethari’s chest before pressing a kiss over his heart. Ethari’s hands nestled against Runaan’s messy bun and stroked the back of his neck. Runaan looked up again, and cupped Ethari’s cheeks. “You love me with everything you have. With every part of your life, Ethari, you love me. Even the parts of you that hurt, even the ones that will never quite heal. Even when I hurt you again.”

Ethari gently shook his head. “Runaan, you couldn’t have known—”

Runaan pressed a finger to Ethari’s lips. “If I had a fraction of your courage, Ethari, I’d be unstoppable. You make me…” He sighed, smiling so broadly he thought his face might split, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. “You make me want to be brave.”

Ethari let out an ecstatic chuckle and kissed him hard. “Runaan,” he breathed, as he pressed their foreheads together, “you’re the bravest person I know. You just shared the deepest and most vulnerable parts of yourself with me. You must’ve been so scared, but you did it anyway.”

“It helped that I was a little drunk,” Runaan admitted quietly.

Ethari laughed and kissed him again. “‘Helped’ may be overstating it a little. It was you either way.”

“And it’s you, no matter what,” Runaan responded. They cupped each other’s faces and leaned together softly, urgently, needing and giving and just _being_.

Ethari broke their heartfelt communion with a whispered question. “Do you _want_ me to stay away from the exchange?”

Runaan found the two sides of him at sudden war. “I…”

Ethari rested one hand just below the healing cut he’d patched together on Runaan’s arm. “This is what you do, Runaan. Tell me what you want. I need your professional opinion.”

“I want you safe, Ethari.” Runaan didn’t even think once before he spoke, let alone twice.

Ethari smiled and kissed him lightly. “I said your _professional_ opinion.”

Runaan quirked a smile at him. “Bodyguard habits never die. That _is_ my professional opinion.”

A little shiver rippled down Ethari’s body, and he bit his lip. “Well, that sounds amazing, if I’m honest. You know this complicated situation best, out of everyone involved. How can we best make that happen?”

“‘We’?”

“We.”

Runaan pulled back a bit. He circled Ethari’s waist with one arm and laid his other hand over his boyfriend’s heart. It beat steady, if speedily, against his palm, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

There in the dark, with Ethari’s weight in his lap, his warmth in his arms, and his heartbeat in his hand, Runaan felt complete. As if delivered into his waking mind by a benevolent god, a sudden epiphany struck. “I need to keep you with me.”

Ethari’s chest shivered lightly as he chuckled. “I meant at your party.”

Runaan’s eyes snapped up, glowing with purpose. “So did I.”

Ethari’s widened in response. “Really?”

Runaan nodded sharply. “Everyone—my own team included—expects to see me show up with a man I’m head over heels in love with, while I’m trying to keep my client safe and guard his relic exchange from disaster. I should give them what they expect to see.”

Understanding dawned in Ethari’s face, and he nodded thoughtfully. “Then I’ll be there.”

“I’ll make sure you know everything you need before we go,” Runaan promised.

“You’d better. I’m not missing my chance to see you in that suit.” Ethari grinned crookedly.

“Not the tux, then?” Runaan asked lightly.

“Bit much, isn’t it? You’re trying to blend in, not steal the show.” Ethari ran his hands lightly along Runaan’s shoulders as if imagining the suit’s fine fabric.

Runaan grinned. “Fair enough. I, uh, have one other thing I need to tell you about. It’s been on my mind since the first time I was here—”

“Since the first time you _what_ now?” Ethari blurted.

Runaan froze. “Yeah, about that…” Haltingly, he confessed about his unwilling B&E in order to guard Ethari from Aaravos’s interference. Even more reluctantly, he added that Aaravos had prompted him to come over last night in the first place.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Ethari began, going tense under Runaan’s touch.

Runaan’s hands clasped his waist firmly, as if he could stop him from rising and seeking out the enforcer that very moment. “Wait, I haven’t sussed him all out yet. He’s not on my side, but… something else is going on, and I haven’t figured out what. At first, I thought he intended you harm. Recent developments have altered my thinking, though. He’s guiding me toward a confrontation with Viren Einhorn, and as long as I go willingly—which he seems to think I should be inclined to do—then he’s more inclined to advise than enforce.”

Doubt dripped from Ethari’s words. “Are you _sure_?”

Runaan sighed and let his hands rest atop Ethari’s thighs. “No. I’m _this close_ to kidnapping you and stashing you at my place until the job is over, where Janai and my security system can look out for you when I’m not there myself.”

“I… I have work…” Ethari said faintly.

“Your job is _not_ more important than your life,” Runaan said firmly. “If there’s the slightest ripple in your daily schedule, if anything seems hinky—”

Ethari cracked a sassy grin. “Did you just say ‘hinky’?”

“—then as your self-appointed bodyguard, I want you to tell me immediately,” Runaan said sternly. “Especially if you see a six-foot-six black man with rainbow hair, glam goth clothing, and a too-charming smile. Whatever you do, don’t let him talk. He’ll have you thinking that up is down, and then he’s in your head.”

Ethari nodded seriously. “Okay. So, you’re not actually going to kidnap me?”

Runaan tongued a molar and sighed loudly. “No. I’m enough mess for you to handle already. I don’t want to disrupt your life any more than absolutely necessary.” He shifted uncomfortably and sighed again. “And I’m trying to figure out where my boundaries need to be. But if there’s the _slightest_ hint of danger…”

“You’ll dash in and sweep me off my feet?”

“In a heartbeat.” Runaan’s voice was perfectly steady, his eyes reassuring and intent.

Ethari rested a hand over Runaan’s heart. A slow, teasing smile came over his face. “Whose heart are we using to measure that?”

Runaan closed his eyes and concentrated for a few moments, syncing his heart rate with Ethari’s. when he opened them again, Ethari was staring down with him in awe. Runaan grinned and shook his head, dismissing his little party trick.

Ethari held Runaan’s head still, tilting his face up. “No, that was amazing. You can just… _do_ that?”

“I can teach you how,” Runaan offered unthinkingly.

Ethari paused and looked aside, as if seeing through the kitchen wall into the front room. “Not here, though. I need you to help me fix something.” He hopped off Runaan’s lap and towed him out to the couch.

They stood, holding hands and looking down at Ethari’s couch. Runaan’s stomach squirmed at the memory of his drunken pushiness last night, and he lowered his head.

“Teach me here,” Ethari said softly. “Make it right, this space. This is my apartment. My couch. I want a better memory here. So teach me your trick, right here.”

Runaan’s gaze fell on his leather jacket, which Ethari had set on the rocking chair after fetching his phone for him. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and pulled him into a fierce hug, whispering right against his ear. “Shh. Someone’s listening.”

“What?” Ethari kept his voice down, but his hands clutched at Runaan’s T-shirt in shock.

“I’m letting them because it will keep you safe. Part of my shitty plan. I’m sorry, for the hundredth time.”

“Listening from where?” Ethari whispered back.

“My jacket. It’s why I took it off so quickly last night. It’s not a very sensitive device. Nothing outside this room…” Runaan blinked. He’d been drunk when Aaravos attached the listening device, but now that he’d sobered up, he knew exactly what that bug could pick up, and what it couldn’t. Aaravos could’ve chosen a far more invasive bug to plant. But he hadn’t.

His hands tightened, holding Ethari against him. “Coming here drunk was my bad idea,” he whispered, “not his. If anything, I forced _his_ hand, not the other way around. Let me destroy it, and you won’t have to worry—”

Ethari clutched him close. “No, you said it was for my safety. Your plan. If you destroy it, he’ll know. We were only going to talk anyway.” He stepped back toward the couch, tugging on Runaan’s hands, holding eye contact.

 _I’m never going to stop fucking up, am I_? Runaan closed his eyes amid a pained expression, hating that he kept putting Ethari through things he didn’t deserve. But when he opened them again, there was that smile. Teasing, tentative, open. Ethari’s heart, reaching out. And he was right. Ethari had been right about everything, all night long. “I need to make a list of all the ways I don’t deserve you.”

Ethari cupped his cheeks and looked at him seriously. “No, you need to teach me your heart rate trick.”

So they sat together on the couch, with Runaan cross-legged at Ethari’s side, pressing a hand against his heart. Runaan talked softly, gently, focusing on the task at hand. He encouraged Ethari at every opportunity, guiding, prompting, and rewarding him with little kisses that set Ethari’s heart rate jumping, which made them both laugh. After an hour’s soft work, Ethari could control and direct his heartbeat about half the time—until Runaan climbed into his lap for congratulatory kisses and threw its rhythm off entirely.

Runaan tugged Ethari over on top of him and wrapped his legs around his boyfriend’s hips. “I need to go soon. I can feel my team glancing at the time from halfway across the city. But I want you to know what an amazing time I had with you last night. And this morning. And what an amazing time I’m having right now, just holding you in my arms. You’re not what I expected to find when I visited your shop that day. You’ve changed my life in just a few short weeks. You’re changing my heart. I can feel it. It’s a little bit scary,” he admitted softly, “but it’s the most exhilarating feeling I’ve ever had. I want this. I want this with you. Whatever it takes. Because I love you.”

Ethari’s eyes went wide and soft and he bit his lip again. “I want this too. Runaan, I love you so much. When you leave, you’re going to take my heart with you.”

Runaan’s brows bent. “I’d never mean to—”

Ethari smiled and kissed him. “No, I want you to have it, to carry it with you. I want you to remember last night, and everything we shared. I want you to remember how I see you, and that nothing that’s happened to you will ever change that. I _want_ you to carry my heart, Runaan. I want you to remember, every second of every day, how much I love you. Take my heart, and let it watch over you.”

A soft gasp burst from Runaan’s lips, and he choked back a happy sob. “I’ll be careful with it. I promise. I’ll carry it for you, but I’ll return it to you safely.”

Ethari leaned down and kissed him with soft, fervent passion. “Please do. I need my heart safe. Because you are my heart, Runaan. All of you.”

Leaving Ethari’s apartment was the hardest thing Runaan had done in several hours, and the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He folded his clothing from the night before instead of putting them on, saying that wearing Ethari’s nerdy T-shirt was a better look for his team than anything he could wear from his own closet. He pulled his leather jacket back on, pulled his glasses from their case in its inner pocket, and let Ethari gently help him seat them atop his nose, just above the dark blue stripes. Then he drew his smiling boyfriend to the doorway, where he kissed him softly, putting the gentlest ending on a night that had begun with an urgent mistake.

“You’ve got this,” Ethari encouraged him. “Go be your badass self, hon.”

 _For you, I will._ Runaan nodded sharply. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I can’t wait,” Ethari murmured.

“Me either.” He leaned against Ethari, holding him close one last time. “Thank you again. For _so_ much more than I can say.”

“You don’t need to say, hon. I hear it.”

“ _Nnngh_.” With gritted teeth, Runaan pressed one last adoring kiss against Ethari’s soft lips and tore himself away. The cold winter’s day pulled Ethari’s warmth from his skin, and he let it chill him. Down the stairs, across the lot, and up the hill toward his car, he stalked with a stride powered by a single purpose.

Every sound was louder, every color brighter. Every voice more welcome, easier to track, to interpret. Traffic patterns, license plates, tire tracks through mud puddles, the world’s information lay itself bare for his notice—

His car’s front tire wasn’t up on the curb anymore. It had been shifted to sit perfectly in its parking spot. He squinted and sped up, seeing a dark shape exactly where he didn’t want it.

Though his door was locked, it opened readily to his touch, alerted via the Bluetooth signal from the fob in his pocket. Aaravos looked up at him innocently, slurping a smoothie in the driver’s seat.

Runaan gave him a flat look. “I’m not doing this with you again. Get out of my car. You’re as bad as a cat, always sitting where you’re not wanted.”

Aaravos smirked up at him and purred.

Runaan pointed wordlessly outside the car and quirked a demanding eyebrow.

Aaravos sighed and levered himself out of Runaan’s seat, pouting. His expression shifted as he passed Runaan, and he stepped back in front of him, sniffing inquisitively toward Runaan’s messy bun. “That’s not your shampoo,” he lilted.

Runaan’s jaw tightened as he suppressed the steamy memory of everywhere Ethari’s shampoo had gotten used. “No, it’s not.”

“I hope you enjoyed getting dirty as much as you enjoyed cleaning up,” he teased, leaning right against the car’s back door.

In response, Runaan wordlessly flicked the lapel of his jacket. Aaravos hadn’t earned the right to see Runaan’s vulnerability, not by a long shot. Which was why he’d shed his jacket in a tumbled heap on the floor of Ethari’s front room in the first place.

Aaravos reached out and plucked his recording device from behind Runaan’s leather lapel. But instead of gloating or mocking, he studied it thoughtfully. “How’s your head this morning?”

“What?”

“No hangover?”

“I’m fine.” Aaravos didn’t need to know that he’d thrown up most of that vodka, either.

The enforcer fished a packet of Tylenol from his pocket and handed it over. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“That’s not a flaw. You got what you wanted. Now move. I’ve got work to do.”

In response, Aaravos surprised him by snapping the little device like a toothpick. “Oops. Must’ve malfunctioned.”

Runaan blinked. A wary notion twisted in his gut. “Let me guess. You had Ethari’s apartment bugged the whole time, and this was just to test me.”

“Let’s focus on what I’m about to do for you,” Aaravos murmured. “You’re wearing your boyfriend’s clothes, smelling of his shampoo and a nice sweet brunch. You’re defensive, protective. It’s adorable, really. Viren will trust my word on what kind of night you had. He doesn’t need to hear it for himself, from any recording I may or may not possess. Such audio pales in comparison to the ethereal beauty of Mozart, anyway.”

Runaan paused thoughtfully, nowhere near ready to thank Aaravos for his supposed generosity. Runaan had walked into this trap of his own free will, and for all he knew, he was still inside it. “Why would you protect _me_ , of all people?”

Aaravos’s slender black brows drew together. After a moment’s mutual study, he asked, “Is it not your wish to kill Viren at the exchange?”

Runaan blinked in surprise. “What?”

“For his…” Aaravos began, before pausing infuriatingly and slurping his smoothie again.

Runaan kept a hold on his temper. “Aaravos, speak plainly.”

But the taller man’s mouth fell open in delighted surprise. “You truly don’t know, do you?” An amazed laugh burst from his lips. “All the strings I pulled to get Harrow to hire you, _and you don’t know_. Well, that’s a discovery for another time, isn’t it?” he said, waving away Runaan’s question before it could take shape. “Listen to me,” he said briskly, sobering suddenly. “For now, I will keep your secrets. I don’t think you meant to entrust me with so many. I could snap you like a twig, Runaan. But you’ve always been vital to my plans for Viren. So, when you need mercy, it’s in my best interest to give it.”

“Mercy?” Runaan echoed.

“Granted,” Aaravos said grandly, offering a graceful bow with his smoothie.

Runaan rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps we both got what we needed last night,” Aaravos said slowly, sobering again. “Even if it wasn’t what we wanted.”

“I wanted something terrible,” Runaan blurted. “I’m glad I didn’t get it. But… yes. What I got, I needed.”

Aaravos toasted him with his smoothie. “Good, then. The plan is still on.”

Runaan pursed his lips. “You’ve been backing my play all along in order to make sure Viren and I end up in the same room. So I can kill him for you, apparently. I _will_ find out why.”

Aaravos laughed, amused. “I expect no less from such a dedicated fellow as yourself, Runaan. I’ll see you at the exchange. And perhaps your handsome arm candy as well?”

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “He’ll be there.”

“You’d still risk him, even now, hmm?”

A mirthless smile lifted one corner of Runaan’s mouth. “I told him the plan. All of it. Even that.” He nodded toward the broken recording device.

Aaravos’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“He’s coming because he trusts me, just as much as I trust him.”

The enforcer laid a soft hand over his heart. “You two truly did bond, didn’t you?”

“I won’t let anyone hurt him.”

“Can you really prevent that, considering what you’ve got planned?” Aaravos asked quietly.

Runaan’s jaw tightened. “If Ethari gets hurt, it’ll be because I’m dead.”

At that, Aaravos let out an admiring hum. “Ah, the focused drive of the sexuals. You’re ever so pretty when you try to protect each other.”

Runaan lifted his chin and gave Aaravos a hard look. “If you want me in that room with Viren at the exchange—and on board with whatever it is you want me to do once I’m there—you’ll do whatever _you_ must to keep Ethari safe, too. You don’t want to see who I’ll become if he gets hurt for your games. No one does.”

Aaravos slipped his fingers around Runaan’s wrist, resting the pad of his index finger against his pulse. Runaan immediately thought of Ethari, of teaching him to control his heart rate. The soft memory cooled his temper and tugged a brief smile across his lips, and in that moment, Aaravos held no sway over him.

The enforcer’s brows lifted at Runaan’s steady heartbeat. “I will take your words under advisement, Runaan,” he said carefully. “Until next time.” With another loud slurp on his smoothie, Aaravos turned and sauntered over the crest of the hill.

Runaan watched tensely until the man’s beanie disappeared past the curve of the sidewalk. Then he slid into his car and ran his hands over his steering wheel. “Sorry about him, baby. I’ll get you detailed this afternoon—” He broke off as he spotted something out of place. That old cup of cold coffee now sat lidless and empty in its holder.

He blinked and frowned, and then he burst out laughing. Aaravos might’ve been lurking in his car all night, but that only meant he’d been on a shitty stakeout with shitty coffee.

Runaan laughed and laughed, until he cried. His mind spilled memories of Ethari’s touch, his voice, his kisses. His hot coffee.

_He got me coffee. He loves me enough to get me hot coffee. Ah, god, I’m so done for._

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Runaan pushed the engine button and heard the powerful electric engine whir softly to life. He was so deeply content amid the soft fluffy layers of Ethari’s love that he didn’t even mind having to readjust his seat after Aaravos had shifted it.


End file.
